Overlord Q
by 009
Summary: During a mission, set out to stalk a dangerous criminal, James Bond is kidnapped and brought to an isolated island by a mysterious computer wizard. What is the man's agenda and what is he going to do to Bond?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Only for those with really dramatic triggers. Some completely vague references to torture (basically, Bond thinks the word) and unpleasant other ways of harming spies. All such notions are through with very quickly.

I hope you will enjoy this story!

* * *

James Bond awoke accompanied by the tell-tale feeling of restraints around his wrists, and he held back a wince in case he was being watched. The room was almost painfully bright, lit by what seemed to his closed eyes to be electronic devices by the sharp light. He had been chasing someone on the wanted list, looking for information on who he worked for in order to stop a possible tragedy which threatened to occur later in the week.

Had they caught him? If so, he better take advantage of this no doubt short respite to clear his head, because torture was usually how these things went. If not? Well, judging by how his career had been going, and the number of enemies he had acquired, it probably didn't matter who it was who was holding him. This was bound to hurt.

Then there was a hand cradling his head, and he opened his eyes with a snap. They obviously knew he was awake, anyway.

What he saw was a young man with longish dark hair and thick glasses. The room was not what he expected either; large, comfortable, almost lavish. Not the darkish, lonely dungeon you usually beat people to a pulp in. That was about when it dawned on him that what he was lying on wasn't typical either, and he looked down; noting the soft quilts, cushions and covers over a very comfortable, kingsize bed.

Bond had to force himself to look back up at his kidnapper at that. Torture was one thing. Not even he wanted to contemplate what this might become, especially as there was still a hand by his head. But this suspicion was allayed almost immediately, as the hand moved to properly stroke his head, but paused. "May I?" the kidnapper asked, voice kind and eyes intelligent, not putting any pressure on him. Slowly, Bond gave a nod.

The man immediately moved his hand, almost petting him, caressing both the skin by his jaw and his short hair, touch decidedly gentle; careful, even. "I know what you were after," the voice was only a soft murmur, "I can get it for you. I can get anything. And I will warn you immediately: I have failsafes in place that will bring the economy of thirty countries down if you hurt me at _all._ "

Listening to this, Bond titled his head back slightly, giving the man better access and putting himself in a position where his windpipes would protect the arteries of his throat somewhat from a blade at the same time. Not that he really thought hurting him was this young man's intention. No doubt, he would give his intentions away sooner or later. Until then, Bond was ready to listen and bide his time. And seeming cooperative certainly wouldn't hurt in the meantime.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Not really. I guess there's some very, very, very vague mentions of possible violence. Because Bond is technically dangerous.

* * *

An hour later, the young man sat in bed with a laptop, wearing headphones, apparently having decided that Bond wasn't stupid enough to be a threat, as he rested just inshes from him, running the fingers of his left hand gently across Bond's temple. It had been silent for a while, and Bond was hard at work, attempting to work out how to play this to his advantage.

He was probably best off waiting for a bit, he assumed, observing more of the younger man's behaviour. It was obvious this far that he was attracted to him; it was also plain to see that he was massively intelligent, and cautious. It was fair to guess, as well, that he had some sort of plan.

After yet a few minutes, during which the darkhaired computer wiz never seemed to tire of his laptop, James arms started to ache in their bonds. It wasn't that he was in an uncomfortable position per se, and the restraints were expertly fastened, somewhat tightly though in no way painfully so, but if nothing else they meant he had been lying rather still.

Noticing him shift, the darkhaired man looked up from the lit computer screen. "Uncomfortable, James?" Of course he knew his name.

"These restraints are tight, and probably restricting my bloodflow." James took the opportunity of speaking and looking at the other to take a look around the room, but it was bland, like part of a hotel suite, or even a cell, though it was far too lavish for the latter.

"They aren't," but his captor put the laptop down. "I made sure they wouldn't cause you any harm. I know you could still kill me in a multitude of ways, but you aren't that stupid."

"No I'm not," James agreed, watching him evenly, picking up on every small, subconcious gesture, every look.

"I am Q," the young man introduced himself, putting the laptop safely away and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I can find, bury or falsify any information. Any at all. Make no mistake, I will give you the information you need to save innocent lives, regardless of anything else, and you are not in any danger. I am not threatening you. I want you to be clear on that; you will be allowed to leave at will, just as soon as you promise not to get violent when the restraints are off."

"I understand," the agent's voice was measured. "I won't. But you're offering something," James made an educated guess.

"Yes. No pressure; you can walk out of here if you'd like. As I said. But I have plenty of information; and can get plenty more where that came from, plenty of things than I know, and you would want to know."

"And you want me," that wasn't even really a guess. 007's voice was still unbothered, cool and collected. What he was thinking was impossible to disern.

"Yes," Q agreed, "but only if you're offering. I will give you the information you were after, whatever you choose. Assuming that you don't choose to try and harm me in any way, of course."

"I won't," James assured him anew. "I'll stay. There's a few things you could find for my employer."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Only mentions of exercise.

* * *

Bond and Q shook hands on their deal, as soon as Q had let Bond loose to do so, and the agent spent a few moments stretching. "This is one of my guest bedrooms," Q suddenly explained. "My room is at the north side of the house. I'll take you there, later. Your room is on the other side of the closet. I hope you will sleep there with me, but you're entitled to your own space either way. There's a pool, outside, out on the back porch, then there's the ocean. Feel free to swim in both. It is about time someone did."

"Not fond of water?" James sat on the bed, seemingly at ease, but muscles coiled tightly, ready to act on a second's notice, still discerning everything and anything he could, judging the treat, judging the next step he ought to take.

"A bit too lazy to excersize much," the genius programmer admitted casually "I jog every once in a while, and I enjoy to float in the sea, but I am not the kind to swim laps in the pool." Looking more closely at the man, he was somewhat in shape, but far from muscular. His form was slight; definitely no physical threat, then.

"I am" Bond confirmed, sitting up straighter, no longer at parade rest but fully at attention, ready to take some action.

"You're allowed everywhere in the house except my computer lab. That's locked, so you won't mistake it," Q set down ground rules, perhaps sensing James' need to explore and know his surroundings. Normally, Bond would ignore such rules, but not this time: this time, there was simply too much at stake to anger this man over something so trivial as poking around in his private study. Bond was not just a blunt instrument, he was an old dog, and he knew very well how to choose his battles. He nodded his understanding.

With that, Q let him loose on the house. It had already grown light outside when the man had finished whatever he was working on, and Bond sat in a very well-equipped kitchen (it even came with a cook) eating some truly excellent pasta with his host, and former kidnapper.

"So" Q suddenly stated. "People should be resonably 'up' in Britain within the hour. You can call in to your boss and confirm why the information they're about to find in their own servers is legitimate."

Bond smiled slightly at that, but only internally, his only external responce a short, distinct nod. "Thank you."

"It is time sensitive, I know. Besides, you have to find it out, and I didn't want to..." Q actually bites his lip, "leave anything hanging over you. You are entirely free to leave, I want no possible mistake in that, and the information will be safely with you either way. I want no doubt about that fact. It is an offer, nothing more."

"It's more of a hint, as I interpret it," Bond replied, taking another bite of the excellent meal. He was enjoying it, even though it would have been far better with some wine.

"A hint?" Q raised an eyebrow, looking simultaneously both older and younger at the same time.

"Or an invitation," Bond supplied, keeping his own expression and tone very even. Come what may, he was a professional.

"For what?" Q's tone was curious, searching... intrigued. And a little puzzled.

"To seduce you for my own purposes... really nice to be clear on the fact, I agree. We both want something form the other, we're both willing to supply what the other one wants... it sounds fair," he shrugged.

Q thought for a moment, then he nodded. "Yes, that's exactly what I suggested. Well put. And in case you wonder about it, the answer is no; I will not use the fact that I can access those servers against you. I do not see it as acceptable to harm people. I have been able to get in for some time, though I am usually out before anyone even notices. Even if they do see something, I am good enough not to get caught, and not to leave enough trace to prove I was really there in the first place."

"The information you'd be leaving this time will be a dead giveaway," Bond pointed out, earning a smile. "Yes, but I am just a little bit better than them. I am not sticking around, and even then, catching me would take some time. I could be a glitch." Holding back a comment on that, Bond inclined his head in understanding, and let that be the end of it. For now.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Bond isn't wearing a shirt. Also, M swears when she is cornered.

* * *

Bond looked around his room in the early morning sun. It opened up onto what he assumed was the back of the house, there was also a well-equipped gym via his own bathroom, through another door. The outside of the house was sundrenched, but he felt like sleeping for quite a while before heading out.

Now, having had time to think, he remembered exactly how his mission had gone. He _had_ gotten kidnapped, and not by Q. It seemed the computer genius had saved him, and only tied him up to make sure not to be attacked until James could be trusted to figure that out himself. The fact that he had easily let him go after an hour or so when he showed no violent tendencies supported this theory.

Going back in he first took a quick shower, dressed in a pair of slacks which lay on the couch in his room, and then joined his host in the media room, watching with amusement how he'd gotten into M's private system, and how she was started by the young, darkhaired man's face greeting her on her computer screen. "Who the _hell_ are you?"

Q smiled. "I am Q. I believe I have something of yours... I have also sent you a gift; you will find it on your company servers." There was a glitter in his eyes at managing to play the technology which Bond internally admitted was pulling him insomewhat. It made him intrigued.

M's eyes narrowed at that, assuming this was some sort of threat, and James hurried to step up into view. "It's alright, M. He got me out from our target's associate's cellar, and extracted the information we needed. I will remain here for a few weeks. Gather more information."

He saw M's eyes narrow even further, but she didn't comment in front of a highly unknown variable. With an unknown man in the room, she merely stated in a clipped tone, "then I expect your report in a few weeks, Bond. We will be in touch when we need you."

Q cut off the feed after that, yawning. "I don't know about you, but I am going to bed," he noted to James, already moving towards the door. "It's been quite a night. Feel free to go down to the beach if you want to. There's surfboards in the beach cottage if you're interested in that kind of thing."

"Thank you" James followed him to the door. "But I haven't really slept in 72 hours. I am done."

"Then goodnight, James." With a kind, almost shy smile, Q left alone to his bedroom, his longish dark hair framing his face and making him look strangely vulnerable. Bond felt a slight pull of protectiveness, prompted by instinct, perhaps. That was interesting, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Bond still isn't wearing a shirt. I am not sure he will for the entire rest of the story, actually.

* * *

Despite Q's previous words, James did not, in fact, end up sleeping in the younger man's bed. Not so much because he would have minded, but because the genius, no matter how self-assured he had seemed when first adressing him, had gotten selfconcious and unsure, seemingly preferring to ogle him from a distance for now. That was fair, in James opinion. He had recieved an invitation to seduce Q, after all. That didn't mean he didn't still have to actually do it.

Unless, of course, he wanted to cut and run. He belived it when Q said he would let him, and besides, the island was hardly a fortress; the physical act of getting out would be almost laughably easy. That fact in itself would have been reassuring, had he needed reassurance. As it was, he felt no such need. A long career had taught him to believe his instincts, both first and last, and he could sense no danger here.

Besides, while the bed in James' own bedroom was considerable smaller than what he had glimpsed in the master bedroom during his tour, it was still covered in dark grey egyptian cotton and divinely soft for 007's abused and tired muscles.

He had expected to wake to the afternoon sun slanting into the room, but when James finally awoke again the open doors admitted a warm evening breeze and the sun was just setting, painting the entire horizon in unreal beauty.

Rising and getting himself somewhat into order, James went through yet another door, the only one in his bedroom he hadn't tried as of yet, and found himself in a sizeable lounge. Like the rest of the house that he had seen so far, it was luxurious, set with comfortable and modern furtniture, in a grey and white colour scheme with occasional accent colours such as a red pillow or a sudden blur or dark purple wall. He found it rather calming, right up until he realised he had no idea where his Walther was.

He didn't need it of course, and he doubted he'd be given it back before he left (if Q had even rescued it, which he might have as he seemed to be the kind to pick up on details like that) as his host was no doubt aware of just how dangerous his guest could become even without being armed.

He found a note in the kitchen, that directed him to entertain himself for an hour or two more, and also towards some food in the fridge, instructing him to have some salad and they'd eat a proper dinner together in just a while.

Sitting down on a high chair by the kitchen counter, James took his time to study the room and what he could see of the rest of the house from his spot while he ate and waited for Q to reappear.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Bond _is_ wearing a shirt. If that's not your cup of tea, then don't read.

* * *

It was full dark, the tropical night warm and inviting, as Q and Bond had dinner at the large deck at the back of the house. Q seemed a little bit nervous to Bond, perhaps wondering what he'd gotten himself into. He struck him as the type to be shy, and the practised seducer always knows when not to push. Bond kept mostly silent, not being one for unnecessary chatting, but answering aimiably when Q tried to talk.

He found out a little more about the man as he listened. Q was in his late twenties, his longish dark hair making him look a few years younger than he was, and neither as decided nor as shy as he had seemed in terms. He was good at sarcasm and holding his own, but Bond judged him as slightly awkward socially. He lived here, having withdrawn into his own little island kingdom; with a few devoted minions and a lot of tech handy. Well, if that was what you wished for, the place seemed ideal. He didn't elaborate on why, and Bond had played the waiting game long enough to know it was too soon to ask.

"Were you hurt on your mission?" Q's question was so sudden in the soft night that had he been a lesser man, James would have jumped. As it was, he merely looked up, movements measured as he shook his head.

"You are sure you don't need medical attention?" Another headshake. Q smiled. "When you're not actively trying to seduce someone you're not very chatty, are you?"

Bond smiled in responce, for the first time not his well-practised, effective seducer's smirk, but a genuine expression of amusement. It was a slight hint, gone in an instant, that took Q slightly by surprise. Surprised or not, he liked the tiny hint of the older man's guard dropping a miniscule amount very much. "No."

Q leant back in his chair, "does that mean you've given up on me?" He watched the other man; tan, blond with blue eyes to die for, studying his well-mannered but blank facade. He had seen much of it, coming across the man's image plenty before, but what he really wanted was to see some genuine expression once more. He had a feeling it might take some time.

James shook his head again, "just for the night. You never get anywhere with people who have gotten into their heads that you need medical attention, in my experience". This time the easy, seductive, rehearsed smile was back.

"Happened to you a lot?" Q looked amused. James gave a half-shrug with one shoulder in reply. The younger man snorted and took another sip of the excellent non-alcoholic drink of the evening. Q didn't want any alcohol involved; wanted James to do his choises completely freely. He knew the other man would want to drink eventually, but once the choise was made and he was sure it had been, he supposed it would cause no harm. Much.

Smiling in responce, James leant back as well, stretching less for the sake of stretching and more because Q was watching him. The younger man only just managed not to blush. They sat there, enjoying the warm night and the slight breeze from the water, listening to the crickets singing and the distant sound of birds, until the first light of dawn started toying with the horizon; starting another brilliant day.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No. Just sun, swimming and a mostly naked Bond.

* * *

This time, they only just made it to bed before dawn, but once more to separate beds. It was still mostly dark as Bond sank into his cool, soft bed, falling asleep more easily than he ought to, having slept though the entire last day, and make no mistake, the days here vastly outpaced the nights. He was still exahusted after his bloody long mission, though, and this calm, comfortable information gathering interlude was welcome. For now.

James woke again in the heat of noon, the doors leading out to the pool still open, letting in a breeze to the room as well as the nice sounds of the ocean. It was all very pretty, he supposed, though he did not much take notice, only pausing to note he did not much like all the white; who had white curtains drawn past the windows, anyway? They shut out absolutely no light! It made him feel even more exposed than he would without any curtains at all.

The agent took a shower in the luxurious on-suite bathroom; equipped with both a tub and a massage shower, and came out, hair still damp, wearing only his swimming shorts, as there was really little reason to put one any more clothing. It must be close to thirty degrees celsius out, anyway. Not to mention his first and foremost priority was his task as an agent, a double oh, and he had work to do.

Stepping out through his door, he considered tactics. Q was obviouslt willing, and aware of what the deal would be; that was always a plus, in James' opinion. There was so many injured people in the world, and far too few innocents already, without him adding to the list of the fallen, especially with his own name on the top of the list. He had been there, done that, and that was enough. Perhaps Q would like the slow and easy approach best? They had time, after all; M had given him several weeks, and he woudn't be approved to go back out by Medical yet, either.

Walking through to the kitchen, he pondered how immensely quiet the house was. Q had told him last night that most of his "minions" lived on the other side of the small island, and apparently no one was here rigth now to make noise. If he had read the younger man correctly, he was probably locked up in his study, or "computer lab", working on something doubtlessly worldchanging.

After grabbing some food (preparred already and waiting for him in the fridge) 007 walked outside and sat with his feet in the pool as he ate his breakfast. Four hours, one session in the gym, one quick jog and an uncountable number of laps in the pool later, he looked up from his position leaning on the side of the pool to meet the eyes that had watched him for well over twenty minutes.

Q sat in the shade in a comfortable reclaining chair and watched him unwaveringly, though he did blush slightly at being caught in the act. Bond smiled in greeting, and rose from the water as he went up to his host. The man was pale even for someone living in England, not to mention this tropical island paradise, but perhaps he didn't come ouside all that often, or merely preferred the night. Bond did know he had never seen him in the sun.

"Good afternoon, 007," Q greeted him, letting Bond sit down next to him without shifting his reclined position. That was good. Not feeling threatened, then. Not that he needed to; James would never use physical strength to harm someone that much slighter than himself, especially without cause.

Bond nodded in greeting. "A productive day?" He watched the face of his host for cues, looking for animation or weariness. He found no such tells, instead he picked up intrigue. The other man was clearly less interested in talking about his work, and mor ein exploring all Bond's exposed skin. Which was fine by Bond; it was certainly a start.

"Very," Q reached out a hand to touch, but paused, his fingers mere inshes from Bond's skin. "May I...?" As ever the man was very polite and very sweet. James felt that light protectiveness, coming so easy to him, rear its head again. Interesting.

Bond shifted into the touch, Q's hand ending up on his shoulder. "Yes."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: I give up. Nah. None.

* * *

The days settled into comfortable rutine after that. Bond would rise increasingly early in the morning, in the quest for cooler air to exercise in, until he rose at six every morning to take a run around the entirety of the island, then push weights in the gym for a while before showering and reading in the early morning sun.

By midday, he would eat inside, staying out of the zenith sun heat, sometimes accompanied by Q, often not, and then he would sleep for an hour or two before going to relax outside, awaiting the afternoon hours when the genius would come out to sit in the shade. The resident genius was so regular about his exits from his lab that Bond could time getting into the pool to swim his afternoon laps down to five minutes, very rarely having time to dwim more than two laps in the large pool before he felt those keen eyes watching him.

He would swim for at least an hour before getting up, each time finding a soft white towel and his host's entire attention greeting him. These would be the only times when Q actually touched him all day. They ate together after sundown, speaking until the sun was entirely down and Q went to go on his occasional runs or brought his laptop outside, while Bond went to bed. But the only times when Q touched his guest was always during their afternoons together; Bond lethargic after quite a lot of training and the genius taking one of his few breaks from computers.

It took almost a week before the genius stopped to ask permission (always given) before reaching out to touch Bond's skin. It was always still wet from the water of the pool, as the agent sat down next to him, inviting his attention. Neither man pushed, both being rather satisfied with events and not in any hurry.

This afternoon, sixteen days after Bond first arrived at the island, Bond was surprised to be met as he rose from the pool, not with careful fingers mapping his wet neck, but with careful kisses across his naked back, the curly dark hair of Q ticking his skin. Settling into this new, but rather similar rutine, that was to last for another five days, Bond tilted his head to give the other man more room, and let him experiment with his chaste, light kisses upon wet skin.

He sometimes still felt hesitance in the other man, questioning if he was welcome, but 007 didn't feel the need to ever pull away. He could, and if he ever decided enough was enough, he would; but there was simply no reason to for now.

Even besides the point of him having a purpose to be here, it was a nice change of pace to get to relax on the job. Much as he enjoyed the excitement, much as it was all part of him; the good and especially the bad, he had been in the game long enough to know that there was such a thing as too much. And he pushed that boundary far too often, not just because he occasioncally liked it, but because it was needed.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: None for this chapter. _  
_

* * *

When Bond had been on the island for three weeks, their highly separated routines, speaking in the evenings and Q watching him swim in the afternoons, after which they sat together, Q touching or kissing Bond's skin lightly, was disturbed for the first time, as Q didn't arrive to watch him swim.

Doing his hour-and-a-half of laps in the pool anyway, and showing afterwards, still alone, James grew increasingly puzzled, even a little worried. He knew that Q was more nocturnal than he was himself, preferring to run or swim in the ocean at night instead of in the morning, like he did, but he had little details on the other man's actual routine.

Did he not rise until the afternoon, or did he nap when the day was at its warmest. In his electronically lit, air-conditioned computer-lab, what concept of time did the man have? Making up his mind, Bond strode through the house, wearing slacks and an open, white shirt after his shower, going to check the door of the other man's lair. It was locked, of course, but it seemed empty and there was no responce to his knock, so he decided to search elsewhere.

The large house seemed empty, so finally he stood outside Q's bedroom door, giving it a brisk knock and then entering. The room was dark, and it took his eyes a few moments to adjust to the change in lighting. It seemd Q was not stuck with those disturbing, useless, see-through white curtains.

Q was in bed, rubbing his eyes after likely having been awokened by the knock on his door, looking rather adorable in his sleepy state, hair ruffled even further than was usual for the man. Bond sat down on his bedside, gently moving the hair away from the other's eyes. Yes, he had to admit to himself, he had a soft spot for the younger genius. "Are you alright?"

Q rested his head against James' leg, "yes. I normally go to bed in the darkest hours before dawn and then rise again at mid-morning, getting to work, but I worked all night instead. There are facinating things going on right now." He yawned, looking so very sleepy and content. A man with less restraint than James Bond would be hard pressed not to simply give in to temptation and join him.

"Not sick then," James decided, kissing the other man on the forehead. He did it more of fondness and relief than for a purpose, and started to rise, only to find himself yanked back onto the bed. He could have easily escaped the grip had he desired to do so, of course, but why would he?

Q pulled James into bed, divesting him of his already unbottoned shirt and then attempted to roll them over, depositing the other man on his back, only to find it completely impossible to shift the muscular agent. Bond was simply too fit and too heavy to manipulate. Just as he realised that, however, the man completed the motion smoothly on his own. Letting Q rest on his chest, Bond looked up at him with the calm of someone who is completely and utterly in control.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: This is still T rated, and Bond is still dressed. Except the shirt. That will live on the floor from now on.

* * *

Q looked down on Bond, running a hand down his jaw, and not able to resist any longer proceeded to start an almost violent kiss, intent on kissing the other man senseless. Bond was taken aback at first at the sudden advance, but not adverse to it. So he merely curled a hand into Q's long, curly hair and let himself be kissed. Bond easily returned the passion but did not try and battle for dominance, allowing for the smaller man to lead the kiss.

Utterly breathless, Q broke off the kiss several minutes later, and rested his head on James' chest without opening his eyes. He could easily hear from there that the older man was not at all as breathless as he was himself. Perhaps because of sheer habit, or maybe just because he was so very fit, Q speculated. He ran a hand down Bond's chest, finding his muscles relaxed, and the man himself pliant underneath him. Just through with his laps in the pool, then. A hand running across his hair confirmed it was still wet. He had showered, dressed and then come looking for him? Q was touched; it was nice of him to care.

It was even nicer that he had James in bed with him. Before even meeting the man in person, he had realised that there were three almost separate sides to him; protectiveness practically the only thing they had in common.

There was 007; purposeful, silent, unreadable and leathal at the slightest provocation. Or order. Then there was Bond; and if the man wasn't the greatest cameleont Q had ever met. Capable of being dangerous, exciting or seductive at will, turning the tables and shifting focus and personality within the blink of an eye. The persona's smoothness was so well rehearsed it did not even feel mechanic, though Q knew that it was there. He was the master coder, after all. He could spot a program when he was looking right at it.

Then suddenly in all that practised ease, all that discerning purpose, there would be a kind smile shining through, and that was James. Q hadn't more than glimpsed 007 since that first day. Obviously, the man had decided he posed little threat, and physically that was certainly true, leaving him to be accompanied by Bond. The charming seducer extraordinare.

Q preferred James though. That side was, though as unthreatened and laid back as Bond, much more alive, and very rare. Where Bond always handed you just the line you wanted to hear, 007 didn't say anything, except maybe something very to the point in responce to a direct question. James however liked to tease, and his eyes lit in a special way when you got through to him, making him enjoy your joke. Somewhere in that lengthy, internal disertation, happening at the speed of light in Q's binary brain, his thoughts went blank.

James found himself amused. Q had suddenly kissed him with bruising force, then simply put his head down on him and fallen asleep again within a minute. He could have lifted him back down on the mattress and made his escape, of course, but he hadn't slept during the day. Instead he had dedicated himself to an extra session in the gym, and the prospect of a nap in bed with his attractive host for an hour or two was not without its appeal.

Before allowing himself to drift off, James listened to the heartbeat and breathing of Q to even out in sleep. This was far from the first time he found himself in bed with someone he didn't actually know the name of, but somehow spending so much time with the man made that more strange, instead of less.

He found the inaction of these last few weeks easier to bear than usual, as well, perhaps because of the surroudings and the company, or perhaps the resounding fatigue going through his body after an assignment as difficult as the last one. He had little doubt that when he was needed again, that phone he carefully made sure he kept charged would alert him to the situation immediately.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No, none this time.

* * *

James awoke in the late afternoon to the sensation of careful fingers playing with his hair, while another hand gently caressed his chest. Keeping his breathing even, he took the time to analyse Q's actions while he thought he was unobserved.

His questing fingers were gentle and curious, just like always, but lingered more now, as if he wished to truly drink in the touches and didn't dare to while James was awake to object. Out of boredom or to embaressment, would be the only motives, as there certainly wasn't anything inappropriate in his attentions. On the opposite, Q's hands were moving completely innocently over only the upper half of James' body, his touches even more chaste than was his usual habit when James was awake.

Finally, James turned his head, looking up at Q with his icy blue eyes. This startled the man to almost falling off of him, where he was still lying in exactly same position they both fell asleep in earlier. "Easy," James' hands steadied him immediately, resting safely on his hips to make sure he didn't lose his balance. James, still James and not Bond, Q noted.

Q was blushing now, clearly deeply embaressed at being caught red handed, touching him in his sleep. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"What? You were not doing anything I had not already given you permission to do. Multiple times, too." James let his head drop back, a clear invitation to continue, should he please. Hesitatingly, Q reached out and gently ran a hand over James' jaw and lips. Encouraged by that the man held still, no doubt, he continued his careful explorations until James finally squirmed away from fingers exploring his side with a murmur of, "that tickles."

"Sorry," Q moved his hand away. "This must be really boring for you..." His eyes however were soft and sad, making the agent feel protective like that, yet again. Not to mention, for some reason, he actually enjoyed it. Mostly, of course, because Q was very entertaining. The man was so open and so responsive; so eager.

James shook his head, "I find it relaxing." He opened his eyes as Q ran a finger down the length of his throat. "Maybe not that."

Again, Q stopped. "Tickles?" He raised an eyebrow, half-smiling, inviting James to share in his good mood.

"No, just bad memories." At the younger man's obvious incomprehension, he added, "stranglings". Chuckling as the other man withdrew his hand with all speed he closed his eyes. "It's alright. I just prefer..." he let his voice die out, confident that the other man had already understood. Judging by how he had started to play with James' fingers instead, he had. Bond did not draw many lines; he did not need to so it was a waste of time, but if he was being docile it was only because he chose to be.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: This chapter does not feature Judy Dench.

* * *

Q's fascination with touch was in itself fascinating. James had planned to indulge him until he tired of it, but as their usual dinner hour grew close, he started to consider the possibility that he never would. Besides, while most of the touches merely served to make James rather sleepy, and occasionally ticklish the gentle stroking of his palms, seemingly neverending, made his mouth go dry.

Suddenly, though, Q sat up on his own. He rose unceremoniously and headed out through the door, a "stay" in James direction the only indication he remembered him at all. Normally James was the last person to reliably oblige with any such command, but perhaps he was feeling charitable, or more likely just succumbed to that human weakness of lazyness. Because of that he merely settled on his back, looking up at the cieling.

To his surprise, while the cieling itself was decidedly white, a discreet pattern ran across a square of it in what he recognised as a screensaver. Q had a projector somewhere so that he could view his computer screen on the cieling! Who had that sort of thing set up in their bedroom? Then again, maybe that wasn't a surprise at all. Q's whole existance seemed focused around computers a large amount of the time, though not unhealthily so. The coder did make time to eat, take breaks and be outside at times, but he still spent a large amount of time in his computer lab every day.

James had little time to think further, before Q returned with a tray holding their dinner. It seemed his host had no intention of getting out of bed anytime soon. James found he that didn't care. He was more than comfortable where he was, besides, if he ever was to pull Q out of his shell, he had better take any chance he got. Q was not only a bit elusive, but shy as well, and James found making him comfortable took some careful maneuvering on his part.

"I hope you don't mind," Q mumbled, once again slightly awkward, as he slipped into bed. He easily allowed James to take the tray so that he wouldn't jostle it as he made himself comfortable back on the mattress.

"I didn't feel like getting up either," James replied with a slight smirk, making the younger man blush.

"Handy," was all he commented. They ate mostly in silence, only commenting on the breeze and the quality of the food.

As they finished, Q suggested in a slightly shy way that they might watch a movie, making James in turn comment on the projector aimed at the cieling. "It's in the bedside table. It is great for studying many lines of coding in one sitting. Better for the back. And comfortable. Or pictures of sheep, if that's more your cup of tea," the smaller man shrugged.

"I'd be happy to watch a film with you," James assured him, hoping to set his host as ease. Reaching out to touch the slighter man, hoping to reassure, and smiling internally in responce upon noticing his success.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Movie watching arrangements that'd make anyone jealous! Also, Bond is still not wearing a shirt! So no.

* * *

Letting Q pick out what to watch, James stretched out close to the middle in the larger than kingsize bed and disposed of the pillow to look straight up. This had to be one of the most comfortable ways there was to lazily watch a film. As the screen came to life, casting the projection of the menue of a film onto the cieling, Q pressed start and set it down onto the bedside table.

James invitingly moved his arm so that Q could come closer, and Q curled up against him immediately. The coder finally found a comfortable position to both cuddle James and watch the projection in the cieling after about five minutes, finally stopping his fidgeting. By then James had already admitted to himself that he was in danger of falling asleep like this. It didn't seem to matter if he did though, so the double O wasn't too bothered about it. This might still be work, but it was a low risk situation and he did not need to stay awake and alert.

The film Q had selected was entertaining, if a little silly, and the agent felt himself slowly drifting off. Not that the man next to him seemed to mind; if anything, Q seemed to enjoy running his hands across James's chest and arms in his lethargic state. Already suspecting as much, Bond made a note of it for future use.

James woke to the pleasant sensation of someone sleeping next to him, sharing warmth. James noted with amusement that Q was facing his back, making him the "little spoon". It was quite possible a lesser man would mind, but James was not such a man. He could manage six strong henchmen at the same time in a fight, or a battle of wills. He simply did not have to drive home dominance with someone barely half his size. If Q wanted to spoon him, he could. And would the man ever decide to do something James did not approve of, or like, he was more than capable of depositing him a full three yards away like a naughty kitten. Knowning all this, he saw absolutely no reason to be threatened. By anything the other man did.

Getting up silently not to wake the other man, James returned through the closet to his own den, getting ready for his morning run. He left his host sleeping as he went through his usual early-morning and mid-morning rutine, but left a cup of earl grey tea by Q's bedside-table around midmorning, when he came out of the shower after doing most of his daily training. He left the room again silently before the darkhaired man could stirr, not noticing himself that he was smiling at the sight of Q with his hair buried in the pillows, messy hair spread everywhere.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No. Warning free.

* * *

That day when Bond rose out of the pool, after an unusually long session (he had reached the two-hour mark now, after swimming every day for over three weeks) he found Q watching him from his chair in the shadow, his eyes far darker than they usually were. This time, as Bond sat down next to him, instead of reaching out carefully, treating Bond like a nervous fawn who might startle and run if he came on too strongly, Q had him on his back rather unceremoniously, leaning down to kiss him hungrily.

Bond responded easily, without much prompting, but as the younger man finally pulled away for air, the agent raised an eyebrow. "This is new." Q looked up, fingers splayed across James' chest. "You like it on top, don't you," James continued in a slightly teasing tone. It made the younger man hesitate, looking a little bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

"If you do not like..." Q's whole demenior was on edge now, as if expecting an argument.

"If I don't like it, I'll stop you. If I'm _displeased_ with where you place me, I'll move." James cut him off decidedly, his tone making it all sound very obvious.

"You didn't stop me from touching your throat," Q pointed out. He studied his guest nervously, trying to figure out which man it was he was dealing with. Was it James, or Bond?

"I didn't mind it," James admitted, closing his eyes. "It may have set me on edge, but there was no threat." Definitely not 007, that much was obvious to the genius, anyway.

"If you had... felt there was one; a threat, I mean, would you have hurt me?" He opened his eyes again, watching the man sitting above him, hand just a hair's breath from James' skin.

"No." James' voice was almost as short as his reply, but the tone was not upset or irritated.

"Why?" Q tried to get the largely monosymballic man to elaborate a little bit. With a sigh, the man did.

"You meant no harm. Don't try and murder me, and we won't have a problem."

"If you promise methe same," Q quipped back. He felt less bothered now; recognising the dry, sarcastic humour as one of James' typical teasing strategies.

"Yes," James closed his eyes again, silently inviting him to touch again.

"Are you ever not okay?" Q questioned as he ran his hand up James torso, touching still wet skin. "Nothing I do seem to upset you... which is nice. If it's real."

"Occupational hazard" James replied evenly, seemingly as unfazed as ever.

"What do you mean?" Q put two fingers under James' jaw and lifted, trying to make some sort of contact. He felt as if James, though so accessible physically, hid from him somehow. Of course, he was.

"Things I've seen, things I've done" James shrugged but kept his eyes open for Q too look searchingly into. "You being eager or possessive doesn't bother me after that."

"No, you don't alarm easily." Q agreed. "Not a very nervous disposition, is that it?" The genius gently kissed James' ear. The man's calm was infective, and he felt more at ease himself.

"No," Bond agreed, complying with the fingers lifting his head for a few seconds and then breaking out of the hold when he tired of it. Q found that oddly reassuring. "I am not. That's why I'm so good at what I do."


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: None.

* * *

It was hours later, watching the beginnings of what would become a truly spectacular sunset, when James finally spoke again. Q had chatted, while he had gently traced the older man's well-defined muscles with his fingertips, but gotten little or no reply. It was mostly silence, with nods or the occasional low humm of agreement thrown in. "So, how come?"

Surprised, mostly at hearing the other man talk, Q looked up from where he was currently kissing James' abdominal muscles. "What? My dedication to computers?" He guessed, assuming the most obvious.

"No," the agent watched him steadily, his electric blue eyes as steady as ever. "Your deprivation of touch. You obviously like it. You don't tire of it. But I'd bet on that you don't get it often."

Q shrugged, sighing. "It's just hard." He ignored the older man's amused 'I bet' in favour of continuing on a more serious note. "I have tried it before, you know. Living out in the world. Meeting people. I am not good at it and I do not enjoy it. And people don't see me for myself, anyway. I'm just some boring computer geek. They cannot see what I can do. And here? There's no one here except my minions. They're followers and I'm their boss. How's that for questionable consent?" The younger man's voice was surprisingly bitter.

"You knew I'd be able to say no to you," James guessed, reaching out a hand to pull his fingers gently through the younger man's hair. Q leaned into his touch and closed his eyes for a few moments before replying.

"Yeah. If I gave you the means to do so. Besides, I noticed you places from time to time. I liked you. Still do."

James chuckled. "glad to hear it". Amused at how the younger man leaned into every touch, James continued running his hand across the nape of his neck, indulging the younger man once again. No doubt, a lot of people working with him would be surprised at that. Most people usually pegging him as explosive and stubborn, and he was all that. But his work awarded him plenty of opportunity to take that out on those deserving, and he saw no reason to take it out on Q.

"I also like how you're so very..." Q tilted his head into James' hand, thinking for a moment, "unbothered. I don't have to mind myself at all. You never startle at little things or complain that a touch is just a bit too hard. Probably because it isn't, not for you."

"It is unthreatening," the double O agreed, reciving a snort in reply. "No guile, no threat. I find it relaxing." Internally he smiled, and something told him the other man knew it too.

After a moment, Q admitted, "so do I." Running a hand down James' arm, he added, "I know you'll leave, sooner or later, I know you have to. But I am starting to wish you wouldn't. And you'll always be welcome back."


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No, but Bond isn't wearing any clothing now!

* * *

The two men watched the spectacular, gorgeous sunset together in silence, before Bond rose. He was getting to his feet smoothly to go shower and put some clothes on. Contrary to their usual rutine, where Q would follow him with his eyes from his spot without moving, the genius rose as well. The younger man swallowed before asking "may I join you?" Turning to look at him, noting his nervous, flickering eyes and the tension in his body, Bond didn't need the specification of "in the shower."

He had found out days ago that Q sent relevant information on to his employers as promised every week, regardless of that he hadn't even seduced him yet. He had absolutely no reason why he _had_ to let Q in the shower with him; but he _wanted_ to. Slowly, keeping his motions casual and his body language calming, he reached a hand out to Q. Smiling invitingly, he said, "Of course."

"I actually regret that I cannot undress you for this," Q noted with a slight grin, as they stepped into his bathroom. It was almost twice as big as the one adjoining to James' room, complete with a small, indoor pool.

"You can dress me again afterwards," James offered, also going through with this after their long, warm shower. He patiently let the other man dry him off and button his shirt one button at a time. Q was gently kissing the skin underneath the fabric before doing each and every one of the buttons im Bond's shirt, but the agent didn't move.

By the time James had returned the favour and dressed Q with great care, they were rather late for their dinner. Neither man cared, eating in the kitchen and laughing together. After they finished their meal, James let Q tug his shirt right back off, falling into bed together to watch another movie and sleepily argue about what made or didn't make for a terrible movie.

The room was pleasantly cool, and there was just a small hint of the breeze making it's way inside throught the constantly doors. Q found himself enjoying the banter as much as James seemed to, finding it easier to relax himself when his companion let down his guard just an insh, though he couldn't really be said to be relaxing. Not yet at least.

It was that night it happened. Just as James was drifting to sleep, acting as pillow for his favourite computer nerd, he was starled wide awake by a sound coming from his own room. It was a sound which didn't fit in the stillness of the tropical night, the only other sounds the peaceful breathing of Q and the light breeze only just moving the curtains over by the door out to the pool area. It was the sound of Bond's phone. He was out of bed as quickly as he could manage without waking his host up. It was time.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No 00Q in this chapter. I know, it's a tragedy.

* * *

Bond was back in England twelve hours after getting the call. Entering his apartment, he mentally attempted to adjust back to life in London. It was the usual cold and rain for weather, and a cold, empty bed when he after a few glasses of whiskey decided to turn in.

He was welcomed back not with a mission brief, but with pshycological evaluations and an interview to make sure he hadn't been compromised. Finally M made the decision that he was just as typically snarky and harsh as he had always been, and that what little of his story that was possible to confirm had been confirmed, so he could be put back into active duty.

Finally, after way too much talk for James liking, he was cleared for duty by _that_ lot, and sent off to Medical to make sure he wasn't half-dead. Even he could not blame them for making that assumption. Twenty minutes after arriving, James sat on a hospital bed without a shirt on, listening to one of the doctors and M discuss him like he wasn't even there. Most rookies would have been uncomfortable by such a situation, but Bond had been through it all before. It didn't bother him in the least.

"Well, he is in excellent shape," the doctor stated, going over his results. "We're going over his bloodwork and will let you know, but there's no injuries: Aside from that, whatever he has done lately for training, it has been something healthy. Slightly less alcohol, too, actually. Also good."

"Laps," James cut in, making them both look up. "Swimming laps in Q's pool," he specified, shrugging. He had long grown out of being uncomfortable with being half-naked in front of people. Even considering that it was hardly a first, why should he be?

"That's a great form of excersize. Some running, too perhaps?" The doctor suggested, checking Bond's eyes as an afterthought, as they didn't especially suspect an ongoing concussion. Cooperating unusually well, perhaps because there was nothing wrong with him, Bond nodded.

"Is he ready for duty?" M asked in her precise manner, only to get a nod from the doctor. He looked down into his papers, nodding once more for himself.

"Yes, I will send all the paperwork through tomorrow when we have the results," the man agreed. "But it is looking good."

Excused from Medical, finally, Bond was summoned to M's office, faced with the usual abrupt orders as he entered. "Bond. What the hell are you playing at?" Sitting down in front of her desk, Bond was silent, letting her get it off her chest. "We get intel from our sources that you have been taken, and two days later you show up half-way around the world in the house of a man that later breaches security of both my private network and our secure servers! Do you have any idea of the risk?!"

"He had read my file," was Bond's measured responce. M looked at him incredulously, her rant somewhat stayed.

"What?" M looked at him appraisingly, demanding that he explain himself. Immediately so, and fully.

"Before he met me, he read your _internal_ file on me. He admits to having had access before. Certainly wasn't my doing. I don't think he is after causing injury; people would suffer, and he doesn't want that. I peg him as rather sweet and definitely shy. Desperately clever, but not one to boast." He knew his judgement of people had weight, all things considered. "I would reccomend not cournering him, however; I doubt he would take it well."

"Was I foolish to think you had not been compromised?" M was just as stern as in the beginning of her conversation, but her voice has lowered just a fraction. She was not one for shouting, but she did tend to bellow at him when she was especially annoyed with his outrageous behaviour, and now she had stopped.

"We spoke of nothing of consequence. I have given nothing up. No need to; he probably knows more than the two of us combined." Bond answered readily and without pause.

"What was he after?" M's voice had become measured now; calculating, already working out how to do damage control and what pieces next to move in the chess game she was always playing.

"Company, I think," Bond replied. "I would recommend humouring the man for now. Going after him would only force him to respond, and he has the ability to hit back hard. I judge him to be no threat at present." James looked back at M as she weighed his words. Ten hours later, he was sent out for a data-retrival mission to Berlin. Glad to be back in the action, and thoroughly grateful to avoid more talking, Bond went.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No. _  
_

* * *

It had been months since Bond's little visit to peaceful life in the tropics, when the tech devision suddenly exploded into alarm and activity one day just before Bond was set to leave for a mission. Their secure server suddenly sported a very blaring message. It was not put there by them, or by anybody who ought to have access. On top of that it was referencing something they couldn't decifer. Bond followed M down there, as he was in her office when she got the call, and couldn't help smiling internally at what he saw.

" _Those people are_ very _dangerous, but their internet security is rubbish. May I suggest an alternative rute_?" the message read, to the puzzlement of all of tech-branch. But not Bond.

"Has there been an attack?" M questioned, all business at this blaring breach of security, but Bond answered her no before the techs did. Causing mayhem was not the goal here. All eyes turned to him.

"Can you reply?" Bond stepped up to one of the terminals, getting only confusion for a reply. He discovered though, when clicking the text, that a reply box just popped up. This caused a new wave of serious indignation for the native boffins as it apparently was _not_ meant to function that way. " _I agree. Care to help out?_ " he typed in, baffling everyone but M. His boss who just looked at him in her usual, undeciferable way.

" _Come make me,_ " appeared on the screen, causing even more indignation around Q branch. This was made worse by that they could apparently not detect another presence. They had assumed Q was out before they looked, but now he was responding, and they could still not see him. The man was a ghost. James smirked.

" _On my way. This is time sensitive,_ " James replied, and turned to M. "I will leave for the tropics instead, ma'm. Seems much more efficient." His point was immediately proven by the last words popping up on the screen.

" _I'll have the information ready and sent before you can distract me,_ " James snickered at that on the inside, but kept an indeciferable expression outwardly. He had a few _distractions_ in mind. And it wasn't all swimming in the pool.

"Care to share what all this means, Bond?" M questioned him decidedly. She was the calm in the storm, as ever, but that she was far from pleased was plain to see. Well, Bond never had cared much for the rules, so why start now? Seemed like Q shared this world view.

"It is the overlord, the man who calls himself Q," Bond replied. At his boss' raised eyebrow, that being one of the only things that could ever make him elaborate, he continued. "He thinks the mission might get me killed, but he has retrieved the information already. He'll put some extra time in, and send it over as soon as I turn up. We will agree on how long I'll stay once I'm there. Depending on how much work it was."

Suffice to say, the boffins were baffled, and M was not amused. But James was on a flight out only two hours later, the information sent and safely in their servers before he could land. His expression when he returned three weeks later left no one in any doubt as to what he had been up to in that time. Nor that he had clearly enjoyed it _far_ too much.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Mentions of grevious injury; bloody James Bond. Literally.

* * *

It was just over a year since Bond's first visit to the Q-island when he woke up in what the smell of anticeptic and white walls indentified as Medical. Remembering little of the details of his latest mission, Bond looked up into the cieling and planned his escape. He assumed that whatever had occured, retrival was at least in time, if only just.

He hadn't been lying there for long when Eve came in, leaning against the doorframe and smirking at him in her special way. "So, what's the verdict?" He asked her.

She sat down on his hospital bed. "Fourteen broken or chipped bones, including five ribs and a few of your fingers. They're monitoring your lungs to make sure there's no damage. You're in for at least eight weeks of rest, and off the field for a few months or more."

"And what does Q say about it?" Moneypenny did well to hide her surprise, but James still picked up on it. "They dug out my tracker. He helped you find me. He must have."

"He wants you there, as soon as you're out of the hospital bed." She admitted finally in an even tone. "M doesn't like it, but there's orders from on high not to persue before there's evidence; before there is a good chance of taking him down. They have nothing. Cannot even prove he was actually there. They've even found coding that _proves_ it was a coding error when new information was added. We're nowhere. You're on your own."

"Fine." Though noting her surprise, well hidden as it was, he did not elaborate.

"You have a... soft spot for him, haven't you?" Eve looked at him, worried. "I mean it is impressive that he has all that power, and seemingly does not let it lead him astray, but it is never the less worrysome. Is it not?" She pressed at his lack of reply. She looked over at the double O for a reply, and found that he was completely ignoring her in favour of just staring at the wall, completely and utterly bored. Already. Oh dear. Suddenly, she was grateful the overlord wanted to take him off their hands until he was back in fighting form.

Three days later, James was plainly refusing to be in bed any longer ,not that he'd been that good about it in the first place. Luckily for him, he found himself finally let out of bed as they had recieved a new message. M had let Bond come when they went down to the boffinbranch to look at the new message, as always on their own servers, from Q the overlord of all computers.

"Well what does he want?" M started, getting her reply from a rather fidgety Tanner. They might have fairly recently discovered it, but Q had been able to gain access for years. What did that mean in terms of information? Nobody knew.

"Bond," the administator stated, a bit unsurely. "But he offers far less information than he did last time. It makes very little sense," the man looked nervous and worn, caught in an impossible situation.

"I am injured. He expects less from me. That's his way of saying so," James cut in. "I'll be alright for flying. I'll go down there." He studied the sceptical faces around him; taking note of Tanner's indecision, M's indignation at how this could have been done, and Eve's worry for him.

"See that you do, and do make sure to keep him on our side," M ordered in her stern way. "We have found no way in a year's time to shut him out, or even detect him. They say he is too quick for them, and we can recieve no further funds to track the man before we can prove he was actually there, never mind that we know so." Her face was thouroughly unimpressed by this byreocraty. "So make sure it is not needed, Bond," she finished. With unusual obedience, mostly because it meant he was no longer ordered to remain in bed, James nodded his understanding. Soon, the agent was once more on his way down to the island; this time, for a rather extended stay. It would need to be: it would be the only mission he was fit to go on for months.

"James," Eve stopped him outside the door, leading him off to the side for a private conversation. "M has no authority to force you to do this. It is far too personal. You shouldn't!"

"It is hardly the first time Eve," the double O replied, not giving anything away with his expression. "Q isn't forcing anything. We made a deal. I could get out if I wanted to. Let it go."

"Are you in love with him?" Eve asked in a slightly louder voice than what might be wise. James gave her a steady look, not responding, making her lower her voice. It did not stop her however, and she did press on. " _Were_ you compromised?"

"No. On both." James met her eyes steadily, cold even for him. "But I do like him. Now leave it at that, Eve." She was not a coward, in fact, she was a very brave woman, but the sheer cold harshness in James Bond's voice almost sent her running. Clearly, he did not appreciate her enquiries one bit, though he took her concern in stride. When she spoke with Tanner about it, much later, they would recognise his pride as a double O in there. They would also notice both his loyalty and also the fierce protectiveness he displayed towards his friends.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: None.

* * *

James woke in his island bedroom after one of the most exhausting trips of his entire life. That was not because of lack of seeming some preyyu exhausting ones, either. He found himself looking out towards the sea through the open doors leading to the pool area at the back of the large house.

His room was mostly as he had left it the last time, and the time before that. There were some changes though. Some of the white had been changed to blue, and a few other touches more to his taste. He had learnt the last time he was here, even though he hadn't slept in this bed a single time during that visit, that this was his room. That meant that no other lovers of Q came here. There was almost something homely about that. He hadn't had much space solely for himself lately.

Laying there and feeling by far more content than he had in a hospital bed at Medical, James let himself drift, allowing for his tired body to relax. He had already admitted to himself, though he never would say it aloud, just how badly injured he really was. He would need half a year before he was back in action, ready for the field. He did not really mind that, though, not here. And he could still be useful for his country while he did so, which was probably exactly why he found it so easy to be at ease here; he was not really idle. James Bond could not bare to be idle.

It had been at least an hour, when the sound of careful steps alerted him to that he was no longer alone. Turning his head, he spotted Q, lingering by the door, as if unsure if he could enter. He was always like that, James had learnt with time; always making very sure he was welcome. Perhaps it had to do with how readily he could gain power, using his skillset. He had to choose between being ruthless, and being careful. Or perhaps, the man's hesitation in this case was merely a case of how he could not make up his mind if he ought to try and be quiet, or if the exact opposite would in fact set James' senses less on edge.

Being greeted with vigilant blue eyes meaning his lover was awake, Q stepped into the room, his steps having their usual soft sound. "Hi." He sat down at the edge of the agent's bed, smiling, reaching out a hand to touch his forehead, the same motion as the older man would so often do to him to move his uncooperative hair aside. "You like living on the edge, don't you?" Bond smiled. He did not need to reply to that; but he did lean welcomingly into the hand.

"Perhaps," he agreed, studying the man sitting above him. With him, he felt no need to sit up in turn, to try and get on a more equal footing. He was fine just like this. It was an almost alien feeling, but it did feel like a relief at times.

"I've sent on all the information they wanted you to recover," Q assured him, voice a little hesitant. The computermaster was no longer entirely comfortable with the thought of James coming merely because he had something to gain, even if he had suggested the arrangement himself.

"I know," the agent assured him. "I trust you." And from that man, as he closed his eyes to take another nap as unconcerned as if he had been alone, those words meant everything. Q knew it. It might not be love; but Q was no lovesick teenager with a crush. Honest friendship was just fine by him; in fact, it was what he really wanted.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: A ridiculous amount of sap. Seriously. Nothing worse than that though.

* * *

Q watched James fall asleep, seemingly unbothered by the company, reaching out to run his hand across James' hair. His lover leaned slightly into the touch, moving only his head. James always slept lying so very still, different from Q who tended to move around a great deal in his sleep. He had always been astonished he didn't wake James up, but the double oh always seemed entirely undisturbed by his presence in the bed.

It was astonishing really, Q decided while gently caressing James' jaw, just how the older man could sleep through all of Q's movements or work on a laptop, but sat up straight, wide awake, at a creaky door. Just like that, the wind never bothered him, nor did the thunder. If, and only if, the thunderstorm was raging already when he fell asleep. He had gotten to the conclusion, the last time he had his lover there, that James simply woke of sounds or movement, and it really was any sounds or movement, that he did _not expect_.

He knew that Q moved in his sleep, or typed at a computer frequently,. He knew how the wind sounded in the courtains through the almost permanently open doors, but any sound he had not anticipated were a threat and he needed to wake immediately. At least, that was Q's theory. People were less easy to anticipate than coding, but he was still pretty good at understanding even their patterns, at least in theory. Or so he liked to think at least.

Q leaned against James' pillows, just enjoying having the man here, and safe. It was different than theories to be around actual people. He often felt awkward and out of place. It was different with James. He was rational, and talked straight without riddles, and Q could relax around him. It was only his third stay on the island, and would probably become the longest one, but he learned more about the man's behaviour and pattern every time. Granted that was the only thing he learnt, 007 being rather hard to get underneath the skin of otherwise, but it was enough.

Q was not naive, nor did he fool himself into thinking there was something there which wasn't, but he was fond of the other man. He felt safe around him, and he liked to think the other man's trust in being so ungarded with him, meant he felt comfortable, too.

He certainly seemed to be, as he could distinctly tell it was James who had greeted him upon entering the room. Not Bond or 007, the personas he saw via his computer so often. Always split in three parts, yet one man; Q wondered if the man knew that about himself. He assumed he probably did, but accepted it with that same grim determination with which he seemed to take most things.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: None.

* * *

James awoke in the pleasant afternoon breeze, feeling the warmth of Q at his side. The computer genius was resting against him, touching him only very slightly, obviously having been cautious when lying down not to hurt him. It made James smile without realising it.

Lying there, Q sleeping with his nose against his shoulder, James looked around the room. He chuckled for himself upon noting a few new details he hadn't picked up on earlier in the day. Mostly, the room was familiar: white curtains had been changed to dark blue ones in between his first and second visits. There was a large, very sleek wooden ship looking remarkably like a bird of prey, which had appeared at one wall his first visit here, when he first told Q about some memories of his past in the navy.

During the latter weeks of his first visit, a chrystal decantier of rather nice whiskey had found a place on his desk; he never drunk much here, but a glass now and then was relaxing. Even though Q never drunk himself, James appreciated the gesture. The glass still stood there, placed on an old detective novel, but for this visit, the decantier itself was missing. No drinking while injured, was apparently a rule. Normally, James would have been quite annoyed at that move, but with Q he only found it vaguely endearing. He could not have pinpointed exactly why that was so, even had he tried, but he knew it likely had to do with the man's honest concern.

Kissing the top of the other man's head, James closed his eyes again. He felt Q murmur slightly in his sleep, as he was so prone to do. It had been quite a while since he had the chance to get used to a bed-partner in this way, learning all their little quirks. He would never admit it, and no one would believe him anyway if he did, but he quite liked it. "Morning," Q suddenly murmured, looking up at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright. Could you move around to the other side of me? Ribs are in better shape on that side," James replied, opening his eyes again, watching Q wake up. They had grown a comfortable friendship. There was an accustomed ease in them around each other, which the agent found himself treasuring. He had a feeling Q did, too.

"Of course. I didn't hurt you did I?" At James' headshake, the computer genius padded around the bed, getting in on the other side. "Are you in pain?" Another headshake, but Q interpreted it less as a no and more as a "not enough to bother me."

He had learnt to enterpret the small gestures, because James wasn't exactly a vocal man. The persona of Bond was, if needed, but that side of the man was all about the agenda and had very little personality of his own. James was the only real part, at least to Q. His part, some part of his heart told him. "Good," Q rested his cheek on the other man's chest, sighing contentedly. Was it wrong to feel so relieved that James was back home?


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: References to adult themes.

* * *

James felt Q move after a few minutes, reaching to lace their fingers together somewhat tightly, moving very carefully to kiss him. He gave a grunt of disapproval, moving his hand away and making the smaller man freeze. "If you don't want to..." there was something akin to hurt in Q's eyes.

"Broken fingers," James said by way of explanation, tilting his head to make the angle better for kissing. Recognising the gesture for what it was; an invitation, Q visibly relaxed.

"Oh. Stupid of me. I'll be more careful." James could well understand the other man's confusion. During the three weeks of his last visit, Q had seemed intent on not letting him out of bed unless it was absolutely necessary. Their flirting had started as soon as James got out of the pool in the afternoon and their "activities" had usually not ended until James fell asleep. That had always been after midnight, and Q joining him in the house before his swim in the afternoon suddenly hadn't been unusual either as it quickly became their habit to make out in every room in the house. Every one except the computer lab, where James still wasn't allowed.

During all of that time, James had never said no, not once. It wasn't that he felt obliged not to: Q had made it more than obvious he was free to refuse, and James was neither shy nor a coward, but he had felt no need to. Q liked things slow and easy, and seemed fascinated with the concept of pinning James to the bed. He regularly took both his wrists in one hand and held them into the mattress. With the man half his weight and as physically threatening for him as a kitten was to a lion, James was hard pressed to think of anything he found less intimidating.

He had in the past seriously considered the fact that it was the very ease with which he could really get loose, and it would be laughably easy to do so, which made the genius enjoy it so much. He liked playing at being rough, but only because he really wasn't. It was a game, James supposed, and as such harmless. He didn't mind.

It did explain, however, why the genius would be very so very surprised at James' sudden reticence at even holding hands. Taken aback, even. "It is alright," James mumbled, letting the genius kiss him. It was long, slow and careful, taking into account not only how the computer wizard liked it, but also the agent's injuries.

"I am glad to have you back," Q admitted, before settling in next to James once more, watching the sunset through the open doors together from the bed. "I am glad to be back," Bond admitted, but only inside his own head. Something told him, though, that Q knew anyway. While a year back, he would have felt threatened by that suspicion, now he just felt at ease, same as he would with Alec... in some perspects, at least.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Mentions of grievous physical injuries and medical practise.

* * *

Morning dawned as James woke again. It wasn't the light that had awokened him; he knew this. They had watched the sunset from this very bed last night, and the morning sun was on the other side of the house, lighting the room very mildly. Nor was it Q, resting his head on his chest. That would have awokened him, and with a vengeance, had his favourite coder decided to thrash around when asleep like he usually did. The younger man was still lying on the correct side though, so that was okay.

The wind, too, was blowing in through the open doors, but that was a normal sound here. Sometimes, he had idly wondered why they had even bothered with putting in doors when building the house; it seemed to him like they were always open anyway. Maybe it was the change in his breathing that finally woke, if that was even the word for it, his host up. Making a sleepy mumble of some sort, Q nuzzled into his side, rubbing against James skin in that way distinctly Q. "Why are you awake already? It is all early..."

"I was thinking of going for a morning run as usual, but I think it might be too soon, I still hurt in strange places." It was a testament to that he really did still feel somewhat out of sorts, that he spoke so many words without even being seriously prompted to. It was almost the most he'd said during any visit.

Q sat up at that, suddenly very much awake and looking really rather cross, too, which was unusual to say the least. "James! You were only half alive a _week_ ago! How can you even _consider_ going on a _run?_! You're still on painkillers!" Rolling his eyes when his lover only shrugged absently at that, Q sighed. "You aren't allowed to run. You cannot do any excercise at all, not yet. You can take a short swim next week. No excercising at all before sunday; it is the house rule."

"You just made that rule up," James pointed out resonably. Ssome emotion, unidentifiable as usual, was simmering just beneath the surface but Q cold not yet work out what it was.

"It is my house," Q countered, rather reasonable and logical as well, already calming down. The two of them didn't argue often, nor for long. "And my island. I can make up any rules I please!"

Alright then," James conceeded. Q had a point there, and a run hadn't sounded very bloody alluring in the first place. "Can I at least have my whiskey back?" The genius snorted at that, and James did not even need a verbal reply from him to know that it meant "no, forget it." Q could identify that simmering emotion now, only barely perceptible underneath Bond's agreement. Humour. Amusement. Ah. So James never really wanted to go, then.

"Fine," James agreed, resigning to go back asleep instead. "Have it your way. I was, after all, bought and paid for." At that, it was Q's turn to snort, more than sceptic to this apparent meekness. After all, he knew James plenty well enough to know he was never, ever meek. Trust James to turn absolutely anything into what, once he saw the slight smile on the man's face, could only really be interpreted as flirting. The man was right though; Q had bought and paid for something, but it wasn't Bond in his bed; it was Bond following rules. Somewhat. While he congratulated himself on that decision, something bothered him.

I know," Q suddenly spoke up, James not reacting other than turning his head slightly towards him. The agent was as comfortable and sleepy as Q had never seen him out on a mission, but how he always seemed to be like here. "I know your boss ordered you to go here and keep me happy, so I would couse no harm. But while that is easy for her to say, she cannot offer consent on your behalf. My deal was with you, and you only. I am not interested in one with her, or anyone else commanding you. So I want to make sure... you're still with me."

"I am," James replied evenly, his voice approaching what could be called fond. "I cannot say I haven't done worse under orders, but I like it here. And though M does not, I trust you."

"Thank you..." Q murmured softly, resting his head on James chest, and sighing in contentment as a large hand found its way to support him. "You know I'd never... you know, do anything to cause harm to innocent people."

James kissed the top of Q's head, a rare show of affection reserved for only special moments. "I told her that, too. You're too smart to cause chaos and damn the consequenses."

"M doesn't see it that way though..." Q guessed, sighing as James traced a hand down the younger man's back, amused at how Q arched into his hand like the kitten he often reminded him of with that long, floppy hair. "She takes my skills as a threat."

He was not surprised at recieving only a measured shrug and not a verbal reply; frankly he was astonished at how many words the older man had said already. Must be the medication. James shifted position ever so slightly and letting his eyes close again. That was enough talking, and though he'd never admit it, his ribs bloody hurt.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: No. _  
_

This is the ending of the first book. Hope you have enjoyed and will enjoy the next part as well!

* * *

James couldn't tell what exactly had woken him, but he doubted that it was important. As it was he lay in the dark, listening to the steady, soft breathing of his younger companion. He let himself be amused by Q's continuous habit to wrap his arms around him. James could easily count the number of times he had played "little spoon" with anyone else not only on his fingers, but just about any other extremity as well, but Q seemed to insist on it. Especially his subconscious, as he always did it in sleep. Sometimes while awake, too, ever since he'd woken up holding him and noted that James really couldn't care less about who was spooning who.

While he lay there, listening to his companion's breathing and the soft, free sound of the wind; he was pretty sure there were some crickets, as well, James thought about Q. Idly letting his mind drift wasn't something the double O regularly indulged in, but it was night, he alone was wake, and even double O's need to daydream sometime.

At first, the man had been an unknown threat, back when James eyes were shut and there were restraints around his wrists. Then he'd become an unknown variable; and within an hour of them first meeting, a source.

By the time James went to bed that morning, he had defined him as a decidedly friendly source, relatively free of threat. Things had progressed from there; lover, amusing acquaintance, but still a source.

By Bond's second visit, he had upgraded him to intriguing. By the time he left that time, he had settled on that he liked the man. Liked him, found his conversation interesting, his intellect intriguing, and his sexual tastes highly amusing.

Now, almost a week into his third visit... Well, he was fond of the man, somewhat unusually. Even more surprising, he found himself trusting the darkhaired, tiny human without reservation; and James Bond trusting anyone at all, let alone so fully, was once in a blue moon at least.

Q was clever, strategic, tried his best to be carefree though somewhat lonely, fair and most of all, so very human. Having a mind capable of picking up on any link, he was always eager to help out, even though the world wasn't necessarily always kind to slight, homosexual, nerdy geeks. There was bitterness about that, but not hate; no grudge. James respected that integrity.

It was also decidedly simple to relax with Q; James had always found it that way, right from the very beginning. He was no stranger to being a very temporary visit in someone else's bed, and he always made sure to be kind and considerate as such; while no stranger to violence, he detested anyone who took to it with those who were smaller, weaker, and especially undeserving. And no one who could ever be counted as a victim was ever guilty of having whatever was done to them warranted.

No, the only ones who had that coming were men like himself; giving as good as they got in whatever fight they had gotten themselves into by their own accord. That was part of the game, and as such it was inevitable. James preferred to let roughness, physical dominance, violence and threat stay there.

As such, and being in no need of proving himself, whether to himself or any "bond-girls" he might come across, Bond was happy to let someone else take the lead, should they wish for it. A gentleman, after all, listened to his lady, even if she was only his for an hour. That changed nothing.

With Q however, James found himself far more relaxed about that. Less posed to counterattack should a threat emerge somehow. Perhaps it was because he tended to wake unsure whether there might be a knife to his throat or not, and that would simply not be the case here, but whatever the cause, he had always found submitting to Q and his charming little innocent fantasies supremely easy. By now, of course, it was also familiar and safe. Something that was, in essence, rather exotic on his part, where safe certainty never had been any sort of part of his job description.

Looking down on the peacefully sleeping Q for a moment, James let his thoughts drift on. Most people thought that he got bored by being inactive, and that was why he preferred to stack missions as closely together as was humanly possible to achieve; he might have even thought so himself once upon a time. The truth was that what James couldn't stand was being unhelpful.

Not being useful, not moving things forward; it was like an ever-present ache whenever he was not busy, but here it had never manifested itself. With Q, even sleeping saw him being useful; persuading an important source. It was deeply soothing, and while too much of it would doubtlessly drive him straight to insanity, he appreciated it for a few weeks at a time.

"James?" Turning his head, he found himself greeted by the sight of an endearing, sleepy Q. The genius smiled slightly, a cheeky invitation hidden somewhere in the slowly blinking face. "Need some help falling back asleep?" Moving clumsily, limbs uncoordinated in his barely wake state, Q seemingly found shifting a bit difficult. Luckily for him, James decided to take pity on him.

"I might," the agent whispered seductively, a mere hair's-breadth away from an ear, covering the smaller man's body with his own. A second later he huffed out a soft laugh and rolled away, getting up from the bed and moving out into the night for a stroll; his bed partner already fast asleep. Again.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: medical professionals. Mentions of grevious physical injury. _  
_

* * *

James Bond woke to the not entirely pleasant sensation of someone skillfully checking over his injuries. Starting to sit up hastily, he was stopped by very much softer hands, hands also considerably more familiar. "Shhhh," Q's voice attempted to soothe him. "You were breathing funny, so I decided to find an expert. I didn't want to wake you in case it'd be dangerous."

Bond resigned to not moving, but he followed the hands of the unknown doctor carefully as the man checked over his injured ribs. The man's hands were moving methodically and purposefully slowly, Q having warned him not to do anything to startle the injured agent.

Q breathed a sign of relief when Bond settled down. It was startling to see the persona of Bond again. Not only was James his undisputed favourite out of the three, but he had been spending a lot of time with James, lately. And a very sedate, relaxed James at that; though he was doubtlessly growing inpatient with his injuries right about now. 007 and Bond always felt like empty masks to him, James being the only real part of the man. James could be closed off and guarded, but never quite as much as his two workrelated personas.

"He has not puctured his lung, Q," the doctor assured the overlord as he stood back, "nor anything else. He is in good shape actually, especially for someone with those injuries." He gave Q an almost affectionate look, obviously the two men were friends of some kind, perhaps he was even one of the minions. "I understand that you worry; feel free to ask me over again if you should feel the need, you might very well be right next time!"

He turned to Bond, smiling kindly. "Make sure to keep resting, you don't want to jar the bones before they've set properly. I can remove the support for your fingers in a few days, if you wish for help with that; they ought to be healed enough by then." Bond found himself nodding. Though guarded with someone he didn't know, his impression of this foreign doctor was good. He didn't seem to be a anything but what he should be, and in James' line of work, that was important.

James stayed in bed, watching as Q and the doctor chatted in a foreign language. It sounded a lot like some sort of computer code, actually. The sound died away slowly as Q led the man out of the bedroom and through the house. Presumably, he went with him to the front door, because he was gone for a while. When the Q returned a few minutes later, he brought a big plate of waffles and two forks. James had to admit he was amused at that; it was such a Q thing to do.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Bond without decent clothing.

* * *

James Bond allowed himself to settle down, noticing how Q bit his lip, seemingly a little bit ruffled. Had he been scared, by whatever he had heard or imagined? Was he afraid Bond was angry with him? Hoping to address either, as he put the plate of waffles down on the bedside table and climbed into bed, James carefully pulled him bodily into his own arms, feeling the genius first tense and then relax. "I'm sorry," he apologised, and they let it end, right there.

Reaching for the plate again, Q offered. "May I feed you?" He could feel the agent shrugging behind him, seemingly not minding that either much, and turned in his arms. "Do you like waffles?"

"Who doesn't like waffles?" Bond smirked back at him, and Q rolled his eyes at that look. He had seen it on countless security feeds, but the glitter in the eyes of the man told him that the agent knew as much, too, and that James was merely messing with him.

"Very funny. Syrup or jam?" Q looked back at the older man just as cheekily, proving that he, too, could hold his own.

"Ah, the number of times I've been asked that question!" Bond deliberately teased, giving a real, dirty grin, and not at all surprised when the younger rman responded by hitting him over the head with a pillow; hard!

Laughing softly, in what Q could recognise in his lover as a rare moment of unguardedness and genuine amusement, James responded finally in a more serious manner "jam, of course".

"I like maple syrup, and corn syrup... even though those are mostly north american customs!" Q defended, pouring jam over the one he was currently cutting into a few pieces to feed to Bond.

"Yes, you're all for those. Coffee, too," Bond watched the younger man, eyes still glittering with sincere amusement. "That's also a fantastic, north american custom, after all!"

"Pfft. That's has got nothing on tea! Give me some earl grey any..." Q promptly cut himself off and blushed as he realised he had walked straight into the trap. "Oh sod it. Open up."

Still chuckling, Bond made himself comfortable against the headboard; surrounded by pillows, and rested a hand in the small of Q's back as he let the slighter man feed him, giving the man a break and not teasing any more, not even flirting outrageously just to pull his leg for once. For now.

James lay back, after he and Q had finished their waffles, letting Q trail a finger over the line of an old scar across his shoulder, watching the younger man's fascination with some amusement. Even now, Q seemed utterly incapable of ever growing bored with touching, and Bond had gotten used to it. It was peaceful.

"Would you tell me what this is?" Q looked up suddenly, asking the question carefully, as he gently touched the scar, as if afraid the question would cause offence. Bond was finally starting, in his own way, to open up somewhat. It was not much, but he was, and the last thing Q wanted was to pry or make him close up again. James liked his walls, and Q felt privileged to be let inside them, even if it wasn't that often James truly let his guard drop.

Bond however, just nodded. "I can. Not tonight, but sometime." He didn't mind talking about it; he had left such considerations behind a very long time ago. He was tired now though, even loath as he was to admit it.

"That sounds good," Q agreed, gently rubbing what looked like an old knife injury with his thumb. "Just tell me... this doesn't hurt, does it?" Bond silently shook his head, demeanour relaxed, just watching Q in that silent, calm way of his when he wasn't all that worried about actually observing everything. That certain shimmer his blue eyes took when he observed from habit and pure curiosity, and not out of supicious self-preservation.

"That's alright then..." Q bent down to kiss the scar, drawing a smile from the other's face. "I don't have any scars," he thought aloud, "none this large, anyway. You have many". He traced the fading line one more time, biting his lip.

"Comes with the job," Bond merely replied calmly, his voice secure and unruffled, not bothered by either the conversation nor the touches.

"I am sorry for waking you up," Q noted softly, laying his head down on Bond's chest, on the good side. He felt the light shrug assuring him it was alright more than saw it. "Goodnight James," he mumbled, closing his eyes finally.

He felt a soft kiss in his hair. "Goodnight, Q." He smiled for himself. "Try not to wake up panicking again before morning". Q playfully hit him, and the last sound the genius heard before sleep was the soft laughter of his lover, just barely audible of the wind coming in through those permanently open doors.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence.  
Thanks to Saye0036 for helping me edit this chapter.

* * *

James woke to the sensation of fingers against his skin and the sun streaming in through the permanently open door. Accustomed as he was to waking at dawn, hours before Q, it took him a few moments to identify where he was. Not bothering with opening his eyes as he quickly grew aware, unusual as that lack of suspicion was for him, he turned his head into the hand.

Yawning, James listened to the soft tapping from Q writing on his laptop until he eventually opened his eyes. The sight greeting him was expected. Q was sitting next to him, leaning against the headboard, the ever present laptop resting safely on the other side of him. The computer genius sat with his legs drawn up, one hand typing as the other slowly stroked James neck and jaw. James smiled at the familiarity of being able to feel the pace of the other hand on the keys in the one that was touching him. There were times when he even caught Q tapping him, as if he was a computer, too. It would be very annoying if it wasn't such an amusing quirk.

"Morning, sweetheart." James yawned and stretched, exaggerating the motion slightly just because he knew Q was watching. In any other situation, he would not take his time like this, but here on the island he didn't feel the need to hurry. Here, he felt content, at ease without the everpresent danger, though his injuries were still a nuisance. At least here, he was free from Medical, and he felt at peace on the island with Q while recovering from his newest near-death experience. Maybe for his next resurrection, he'd hide out here for a while.

"Breakfast?" Q offered, but the agent in his bed merely shook his head. Q did not fall for the use of an endearment, but he did not bother to comment on it. Using such words was not in Bond's nature, but having an agenda certainly was. He had no compunctions about letting it go, though, having a rather good idea of what that agenda was.

Q trailed a hand down James' side, feeling the warm, firm muscles under his hand tense at the sudden movement and then relax within a heartbeat, as Bond had since long grown accustomed to his touch. The computer masterer knew that if he hadn't moved so hastily, setting off the agent's reflexes, Bond would have remained relaxed at the touch of his hand.

There was a multitude of scars covering various places on James' body, and Q let his finger run along one of them gently. "A sparring incident while I was training to join the navy," James supplied in explanation. Q looked up, concern turning into a sort of happiness when he realised James actually had decided to speak of the scars. He had thought the older man would simply bury the subject, not one for sharing much information about himself.

A determined look on his face, Q picked up the laptop and reached over to place it on the bedside table. As James settled more squarely on his back, Q shifted to straddle him, running his hand over an ugly line across the man's abdomen. "Explosion. Five years ago." Bond answered without more prompting, not waiting for the question to be asked out loud.

"And this?" Q reached and gently touched a scar he had noticed many times, even hidden as it was in his lover's hair.

"A mission. Someone knocked me over the head." Q found himself smiling despite himself at the older man's expression, which had gone from dismissive to annoyed, seemingly at himself for acquiring the injury in the first place. James shifted ever so slightly, laying one hand under his head, perhaps to cover this reaction. At least, Q guessed that might be it. James was not one for giving much away of what he was thinking.

Looking down in order to hide his smile, Q stroked what looked to be the latest scar. It looked to be a small series of what could be puncture wounds. "A bomb blew early on a mission, glass from a shattering window cut me," James answered, still completely calm. If this examination bothered him, he did not show it.

Swallowing, Q moved his hand to one of the ugliest scars of them all, certainly one of the most serious injuries still looking pink and fairly new. While the younger man had limited knowledge of such things, even he could guess it had been caused by a bullet. It was situated low on one of Bond's shoulders, and he remembered an incident or two when Bond had actually reached out a hand and stopped his hands from coming near the gruesome scar.

Q had thought he was generally uneasy at having it touched at first, but he had come to some insights during the man's second visit. Namely, that if Bond could see him clearly, it was alright to touch it, and otherwise it was not. He had no idea what the distinction meant, but with the very few rules Bond set about how Q could touch his body, it was easy to follow this one.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Bond speaking, only to freeze briefly in shock at what the man was saying. "A colleague shot me. M gave the order. It was two years ago..."

Needing no more than that to connect the dots, Q's eyes cleared and his expression grew grim. The single word he spoke was a statement, not a question, and he briefly looked very dangerous. "Silva."

"Yes, Silva," Bond agreed, not in the least surprised that he knew. "I apprehended him on his island, as I am sure you know. They locked him up and tossed away the key."

"Oh, I remember," Q's voice was harder than James had ever heard it before. "I will not deny breaking a rule or two; I am a hacker, after all! But we study information; gather it, it is not to be missused. Certainly not like that. That was not his first time stepping over the line, he had many lives on his concience." James kept still as the younger man ranted, always picking up on information that could be useful.

Q huffed in indignation before continuing. "The man even dared to use coding techniques I invented to try and break out of custody in some elaborate scheme of his, planning to escape through the underground. Of course, I destroyed his program."

The realisation came suddenly and James' eyes widened. "That was you? They said it was a bug in the system. Nobody could account for it or find anything, so they figured it was just luck."

"It was not. Don't blame your techs, though. I think even I would have fallen for it, had I been in the middle of things. And I had the advantage of inventing the code in the first place. Being bored is a powerful weapon, often underrestimated. Not to mention holding a grudge can be an eyeopener at times."

Q leaned down to kiss the man under him, humming pleasantly. He felt in a much better mood already as James willingly kissed him back, moving his hands and letting them come to a rest at his waist to steady him. As Q made an attempt to tangle his fingers into the Double O's hair, he decided that if this was this reward, maybe he could be persuaded to help out some more. Especially if it stopped scum like Silva.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Mentions of medical practises.

* * *

Q, as he had named himself so long ago when he assembled his first computer, watched his bedmate silently. James was lying next to him, eyes open but watching the world lazily, those electric blue eyes not intense at this moment in time.

The computermaker had realised, when James returned for his third visit, that the agent did sincerely like him. Before that, he had not been entirely sure. James actually trusted him, and from a man like that, that was quite a gift. He had not seen the intimidating figure of 007 practically since that first visit and the persona of Bond was not a much more frequent visitor.

Q was grateful for all of those things, but he was not an idiot. James might be comfortable lounging in his bed and even relaxed with him, but Q was a source in the man's mind. He knew that. He considered James a friend, and he knew the agent returned that. He also knew that James was 007 first, and his friend second.

It was worth considering, but it did not exactly bother him. Not as long as James was here by his own free will. The man's motivations were still his perogative. Q held things back from James, as well. Some because he was his lover, not his partner, some to protect his friend. The last thing he wanted was to put James in a difficult position between his source and his boss.

He considered it better for both of them that James did not have to make certain choises. While he was determined to freely let Bond make his own decitions in everything which was his business, some things were not. Some things, he simply made sure the man could not look for or find, even should he wish it. Making that precaution was easy; electronic locks for his computer lab not even a double oh could fool. He did not have any doubt that James knew as much, but the agent was far too clever to call him out on it. Sometimes Q questioned his own sanity for enjoying this game they played, but if they both did so, what was the harm?

Q let himself be drawn from his thoughts and instead looped a hand around James's waist. His thoughts were proven right immediately as James weaved fingers into his hair and mumbled an endearment into his neck. These things came and went. Sometimes James was entirely natural with him, except the deceptive meekness. Other times he would slip back into his seduction rutine. At least by now he never slipped back into the persona of Bond, and as long as that was the case, Q did not mind.

It was three days later that Q sat by the bar table in his kitchen, watching Bond and Doc over at the kitchen table. Doc was removing the support for James' broken fingers, the medical man clearly amused by the stoic disposition of his newest patient. With just over two weeks gone since the accident, James fingers were setting and needed less confining support.

"That should do it," the doctor smiled kindly and started putting his tools away. "Do try and be gentle when you first use your fingers, and if you have any trouble, I am just across the island."

"Thank you," James stated simply, the gaze of his blue eyes intense but not threatening. He had allowed the man to help without trying to get out of it, and he had remained polite and slightly laid back during the entire examination.

As the doctor nodded and lifted his bag to leave, Q slid off of his chair and walked him out. "Doc," he started, making the man smile, as Q opened the door and let them both out.

"Yes, Alistair?" The man prompted. "Are you going to tell me now what you've been wanting to ask me ever since I walked in the door?"

"James does this thing which is slightly strange... even by his standards." Q confessed, knowing he did not need to tell the doctor not to use that name in James' hearing. They walked away from the house slowly, following the path downwards. Rather succinctly, he told his old friend of how James would react to him touching the scar on his shoulder, and how ragged the healed bullet wound looked.

When he was finished, the doctor had a knowing look on his face which Q had learnt to recognise. "That sounds like nerve damage to me," the doctor told him, smiling slightly at Q's startled expression. "Superficial nerve damage," he specified, tone soothing. "He would have trouble feeling touches to the scar. Rather a hard man, is he not? It must feel rather uncanny even if he can see it happening."

"That's James though." Q said slowly. "Always in control, but never shying away. Thanks for the help, Doc. All of the help."

"Of course," the doctor smiled. "Always a pleasure, Q. Now, back up the hill you go; don't want to keep that lover of yours waiting!" And he laughed kindly as Q blushed, waved, and went back up the hill to join James in the house.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Mentions on unscrupulous behaviour and highly unspecific allusions to possible non-con.

* * *

M sat at the small conferance table in her office, joined by representatives for the other countries they'd made this communication alliance with. Many of them were the same who had dealt with the now arrested C in his scam to try and take over the world; countries and people who and which could be trusted and relied on.

Different from the corrupt and very far-reaching plans of Max, this sharing was a very low-key cooperation agreement where each and every member shared only the information he or she chose to from their own country. Of course, information Bond could acquire from that annoying self-proclaimed "Overlord" was a large part of it, too. In fact, that was the factor which had finally decided the case and made the cooperation move forward after months of uselessly arguing about if the alliance should or should not be made.

They had not heard a peep from Bond in the five weeks which had passed since the man had left for the "overlord"'s island, and while that was inconvenient, they did recieve the promised information. In that incredibly cocky way of his, the man dropped it straight onto their own servers! Q and Bond might not have a whole lot in common generally, but M did find that they shared a certain fondness for blatantly ignoring rules and regulations.

The long while without communication was just one of the many reasons why the sudden call from Bond had been such a surprise. It had gone to voicemail, and M had first thought not to share it with anybody, but had in the end decided that she should. She knew what she was thinking about it, but in case she was wrong, they had to be allowed to make up their own minds.

M made the recording play with a grim expression, already knowing what was to come. The volume was loud enough that each and every person assembled around the table could hear James' voice. It sounded as if Bond was speaking through gritted teeth. "M," It came out lightly rushed, as if he had very little time to talk.

"I need extraction. I don't have long. Q is a perverse... sadistic... manipulative bastard! I cannot take this any longer." There was some kind of muted sound in the background and a soft curse from Bond. "Bond out."

Before Bond managed to disconnect there was a thud, and a strangled sound that might have been an attempt at a scream, though M did not really want to think about what it would take to make Bond scream. It was impossible to tell if the sound even came from Bond or if it was someone else.

The line went dead and M looked around the table at the faces of the other intelligence leaders and representatives sitting there.

Felix, the representative from the states, looked ready to get up right away and go get Bond himself. His face clearly showed both upset and clear determination. Moneypenny, sitting at the table only in the position of a secretary, looked pale and devastated. She was still staring at the recorder as if mere force or will would reveal something more.

The rest of the people around the table all had faces set in stone, seemingly ready to ignore this and let the mission carry on uninterrupted. M sent Eve a very stern look to make her stay silent, as soon as Monneypenny looked up from the table. "So, gentlemen and fellow lady. Shall we extract Bond?"

"Yes," Felix seemed a bit annoyed by the question, if anything. Clearly in his eyes, this was not actually a question in the first place and asking it was just wasting time they did not have. To Felix, what they ought to do was a given and M had tarried long enough. James could be badly hurt for all they knew; this was no time to sit here chatting away like some sort of committee of old ladies.

"Your agent, he signed up for this, yes? I do not believe in letting one man's lack of nerve overthrow months of work," another representative said decidedly, his mind just as made up as that of Felix. His decision, however, as clearly entirely in the opposite direction, and Felix sent him a decidedly dirty look.

"Bond volunteered, he cannot back out now," the man next to him agreed, shaking his head. "He ought to man up and do his work."

"Quite," the only other woman except for M and Eve at the table agreed, her mouth set in a thin line as if she found this unpleasant. "Surely your man has seen enough to know what he got into. It is common for someone in deep cover to panic, after all."

"It is regrettable, but too much is invested in this," another voice was added to the side prone to inhumanity for the benefit of security. "I am sure your man would agree, in a clearer frame of mind."

"I believe," the man occupying the last seat of the room spoke slowly, weighing his words. "I believe that the needs of the many, if needs must, oughtweights the needs of the one. Sometimes, an agent must be... sacrificed. Even though it is highly regrettable."

"And M," Eve complained to Tanner after the meeting, still deeply distressed, "said nothing, she just agreed as if James is completely expendable!"

"Maybe," Bill suggested, trying to comfort his colleague, "M had some more information which she acted on? Bond did agree to this, multiple times, after all. You heard him do so."

"You should have heard him, Bill," Eve complained, her voice claiming in volume without her noticing. "James sounded as if he was in distress, even pain! I don't see how they can leave him to whatever that man is doing to him!"


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: No. Unless you have a trigger for tickling. (Which does apparently happen and I am not judging)

* * *

Bond fought to suppress the sound coming out of his throat as he cut off the call to M. When he was sure the call had disconnected, he turned towards Q, who had just smacked his ass, and tossed him up onto the bed unceremoniously. "Hey!" Q giggled, shifting to sit up and straddle James' hips as soon as the agent sat down on the bed, trying to tickle the larger man. "You had it coming for calling me a pervert! I never thought you'd agree to try and fool your boss though."

James Bond shook his head calmly. "That did not fool her. There's protocol and extraction phrases I could have used and did not. There is the risk I had panicked of course, but she knows that is not likely. She will assume something else is going on and keep her eyes open."

"You think she won't alert the rest of her intelliegnce sharing cirkle, then? I can create some sort of glitch..." Q's eyes were already calculating, the young coder going somewhat more still as he planned.

"Oh, I think she will tell them," Bond stated simply, his voice soft. "She knows she might be wrong. But that is a risk I take as an agent. I have to rely on her judgement. And I do. I understand, too, that you want to test the others before you feed them information. I would, too."

"No," Q shook his head, "I made this deal with you, James. The information I give you is yours to give to whoever you choose. Unless they purposefully harm innocents I do not care. But I do worry about you, and I need to know if they're on your side. Call it overprotective, but I do." Q's eyes met James unflinchingly; large, dark and full of worry.

"An over-protective, manipulative pervert." Bond corrected his earlier statement, smiling up at the coder who was still straddling him. Q was half-lying on Bond's ches,t running a hand slowly down his face. Q frowned, and James first thought he would go off on a rant at being called a pervert, but he bit his lip instead, looking uncertain. When he did speak, his voice was small.

"You really do think I am a pervert? That wasn't just something you said? If I've ever done anything that you mind..." Q looked ever more worried now, his eyes still trailed on James, but alarmed now, his entire body language screaming out "distraught"!

Gently, James cut the smaller, younger man off before he could get too absorbed in his distess. "That was just something I said, Q. Kinky, yes. Perverted? No, absolutely not. And Q? If I didn't want you there," James nodded to indicate Q's postition on top of him, "then I would just..." Not saying anything more, James merely shifted his hips and skillfully sent Q down into the mattress.

Q smiled, reassured like he always was the few times James set clear bounderies, the process assuring him that they were in fact there, whether or not he crossed them. That James would stop him if he didn't want something. "What do I do that is kinky? What about sadistic or manipulative?" Q asked, thinking of the other adjectives the agent had used in the phone call. His voice and demeanour had changed now to curious and inquisitive, something James was far more comfortable with.

"You're into the most harmless form of bondage I have ever encountered," James countered. "A bit kinky, but nothing bad. As for manipulative... aren't you by trade technically a manipulator? I am one, too." Q nodded, slowly, asking him once again if he thought of him as sadistic. In his mind, that was an important one. He would never want to cause james pain, and wouldn't want him to think so, either.

"I am sure you could be. I had suspected it, but it was confirmed in my mind when you spoke of Silva... but no, never to me." James replied, both to the question which had been asked and the unspoken inquiry. Q watched his lover for a moment, their eyes meeting for a drawn out moment. Then he nodded, smiled, and bent down to kiss him properly.

It was eighteen hours later, when Q made a sound that made James look up. They were in the computer manipulator's bedroom, Q sitting up, leaning into the headboard with his laptop. James was lying next to him, lacily letting the younger man pet him in that unthreatening but possessive way of his. "What is it?"

"Your boss just shared your phone call with the rest of her group," Q stated, removing his headphones with one hand, the other still cradled around James' jaw, fingers stroking his lips and Q's thumb planted against the soft skin behind James' ear. "Want to watch?" As James nodded and went to sit up, Q shifted and changed the sound so that they could both listen. He angled the computer between them.

James could not say that he was very surprised at the reactions they saw M get around the table. He was an agent; many saw him as expendable. Especially when he was somebody else's agent. Q though, he noticed, was positively seething. "After all you've done for..." the coder was mumbling through clenched teeth, making James smile. He did not bother to hide it.

"Are they all going to find viruses on their computers now, Q?" the agent asked, still deeply amused at his lover's protective nature.

"Yes!" Q decided, "or worse! I like your mate Felix though... hmmm" Q had turned the computer away from James now and did something very quickly, even using both his hands. James knew better than to try and peek. Q trusted him not to and that trust was not easily earned. "He has been looking very hard for some months for a certain... I am sure I have it, actually. I think he will find _that_ on his computer instead. He deserves it... for being the only decent person in the room!"

Q suddenly stopped, placing his computer aside, evidently deciding it could wait. "It highlights, though... that this is not your choise. You can not get out of this, it is..."

"Q," James cut in, wanting to stop him. When it had little effect, he took hold of the slighter man and easily rolled him over, pressing him into the bed. He felt the genius go tense under him, probably even feeling a bit scared. Bond had never tried to do anything like this before, and it had to be surprising and a little bit alarming. "I could do anything with you now and your computers couldn't save you. Make hell afterwards, yes, but not save you. Not if I decided to hurt you, here and now. But we both know I am not. going. to! I would never, same as I know you would never try and force me in any way. Sometimes my working life is shit and I disappear or become collateral damage, assumed lost. I chose that. And if I _wanted_ to be reassigned, I know I can trust _you_ not to push. Alright? So calm down. If," he added, "it is possible to have a consent kink, you have."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Q questioned, relaxing now, James' point evidently coming across well.

"No, it is one of the things I like best with you," James admitted, leaing down to give his favourite rogue computer expert a kiss on the nose. "One of the reasons I like you so much, in fact." When feeling Q smile in responce, he rolled them over, letting Q be in charge again. He had no need to prove anything, after all. And neither did Q.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books. Or skype.  
Warnings: Mentions of drugs (which have absolutely nothing to do with what is actually happening in the plot).

* * *

Felix snapped to attention as the image on his screen changed from a harmless news site to show skype, connecting without him touching the controls. The video on his screen showed a youngish-looking, scrawny man with long, dark hair and glasses. He was wearing a grey shirt which looked cool (in the sense of opposite of warm) but featured stripes in an alarming array of colours, and was leaning onto what looked like the headboard of a bed.

"You must be Felix, if I may call you that? I am Q." Felix could feel his blood run cold. Of course the computer-magician had monitored the meeting; the man must be all over the Brits' system, even if M had not told them so. He would not have said anything if he was her, either. Just as Felix came to this conclusion, there was a slow, lazy movement to the side of the screen, and the young man who called himself Q shifted the computer on his side a little, allowing the agent to catch a glimpse of a very sleepy-looking 007.

"What did you drug him with?!" He demanded, before he could stop and ask himself if the question was wise. He did not quite care as he watched James lean his head into the hip of the younger man, seemingly not entirely awake.

"Drug him?" Q first looked to be upset by this allegation, then confused. "People actually do that?"

Felix picked up a sleepy chuckle at that, and then he heard Bond's voice, rough with sleep. "Yes, Q, people do. How can you have access to all the information of the world and still be this innocent?" Bond shifted, though he did not bother to sit up, and looked up so that he could talk to Felix. "Don't worry, he said he likes you." Felix shook his head, watching the scene carefully and concluding that whatever that call had been, it was some sort of diversion. James was clearly not in any danger, and though his brother agent was probably not aware of it himself, he sensed many layers to the relationship he'd just gotten a glimpse of.

"I just wanted to reassure you James is in no danger," Q said decidedly, ignoring the half-asleep but still sharp-tounged agent resting against him. "And thank you for standing up for him. You're being a good friend to a good friend; and I appreciate it." The video disappeared, or disconnected, and this time Felix almost choked on his coffee. Filling his screen, were a whole slew of documents proving the criminal associations of the group he had been hunting for months. After a moment of pure triumph and smiling widely all the while, Felix pulled up an empty document, which he labeled "Q". All he wrote in it was "thank you!".


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Monneypenny using a spot of bad language.

* * *

Eve Monneypenny was still seething even now, hours and hours after they had listened to that call. She did not care what the so called "rules of the game" were, James simply did not deserve this.

She snapped the door to the office shut to go home, setting her high heels down with repeated angry snaps as she she walked to her flat. She made herself tea with more angry movements, finally opening up her laptop, only to be greeted with a bluescreen instead of her usual background. Puzzled, she went to touch the mouse to try to determine what was wrong; only to retract her hand as if she'd been burnt. What if that so-called "Q" had gotten into her laptop? He must be able to do that, right?

This was confirmed only moments later, when a face appeared on her screen and a voice resounded in her little livingroom. "Miss Monneypenny," the voice greeted her. It was a soft, well-spoken, male voice, but not one she'd ever heard before. "Good evening. I hope I am not disturbing you." Eve was barely listening, however, as she was so busy looking at the face which had appeared on her screen, scanning it for injury. The face did not match up with the unknown voice; the screen showed her a sleeping James Bond, sprawled across a large bed and only partially dressed.

"What did you do to him?" She was barely aware she said the words out loud, even less that they might offend. The voice did not seem to mind though.

"What did I do to James?" The voice was still level and polite; it even sounded kind. "Exactly what you think... and nothing like what you think. I called you, Miss Monneypenny, because you were kind enough to worry about him. There is no need; no need at all."

"I heard that call. What did you do to him?" She repeated, her voice raised as she grew more upset. She could almost hear the eyeroll on the other side, but there was no reply; seemingly because James had started to move, perhaps disturbed by her voice.

"Q? I get that you work at hours when the rest of us sleep, but you don't think you could do so either more quietly or somewhere else?" He grumbled, and no matter how hard Eve tried to find some undertone of fear in his voice, she came up short. He just sounded like he was good-naturedly grumbling at a friend of some sort. She recognised immediately, though, that he would be. James would be playing a role for Q, clearly, to try and keep himself if not safe, so alive, for as long as possible. Oh, they needed to get him out of there!

"Sorry, sweetheart," she heard the voice reply softly. "I didn't mean to wake you. Nor, I am sure, did Miss Monneypenny. She is a bit worried for you, is all."

"Eve? Well, she would be, after the trick you pulled." Eve watched as James Bond sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He never did that during missions; he was always instantly alert as soon as called or disturbed.

"What did you give him?!" She demanded from the darkhaired man she could now glimpse on the screen, only to get a groan in reply.

"Oh not this again!" The man seemed to snap. "I did not drug James, just because he actually sleeps around here!" The darkhaired man looked like a thundercloud at the accusation.

To Eve's surprise, James laughed at her inquiry, not in a put-on way as if to try and manipulate the man he was with, but in sincere amusement. "Q called Felix earlier today," James told her, turning towards whatever camera the darkhaired man had set up, she pressumed. Or if it was a laptop at his side, too. "He thought the same as you. It was a test, Eve," James assured her calmly. "You can ask M if you think I am compromised; I didn't say any of the things I ought to have, if I really needed extraction. Q wanted to test the people involved in the information sharing group, and I agreed. Don't worry about me. I am fine."

"You can't be fine, you talk to much!" Eve found herself bantering back before fully realising what she said. She could hear the man called Q chuckle at that. "Are you certain you're fine, James?" She listened desperately for clues in his tone, but he merely sounded sleepy.

"Yes, well, maybe I am just chatty today. I am fine, Eve," he repeated, "just fine."

"I wouldn't hurt him," the younger man cut in, fully in her view now as he had curled up against James as they talked. "I have no interest in hurting him, and no desite to either."

"You would have if you were a..." Eve bit her lip, finally realising that perhaps she shouldn't go down certain lines of inquiry with this man; not if she didn't have to.

"A kinky sadist?" the man suggested. "While I am sure James meant the sadist bit, he didn't mean in regards to him, and my kinks are all very harmless, I assure you. As far as manipulation goes, to use the last word he told you, I am certain James can more than match me on that score."

"I am a big boy, Eve," James cut in, sounding half asleep. "Thank you for caring; but do not bother about it. I'm fine." 'Now that is just typical,' Monneypenny thought. 'He sounds cultred and elegant even when he isn't actually awake to speak.' She watched on as Q looked at James with what could only be described as a tender expression, cutting power to the last lamp in the room. There was already very pale morning light coming from somewhere, until the man did something to cut that off; electronic curtains, maybe.

"I thank you for your time, Miss Moneypenny," he whispered, trying not to wake the sleeping agent nect to him. "But I think we ought to let James sleep now, for a little longer. Normally he'd rise within the hour to run, but lately he can be persuaded not to. He is healing well, by the way. The doctor on the island has assured me there's no complications."

And that was how Eve Moneypenny found herself, while still a bit sceptic of his involvement with James in a wider sence, looking into the eyes of the man called Q, telling him, "thank you."


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: None for this chapter.

* * *

"Do you ever 'lay back and think of England'?" James opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look at Q. The younger man was sitting up in his bed, leaning on the headboard. He had his laptop open and one hand had paused on the keyboard, while his other hand was resting in James' hair.

"It happens," the agent replied honestly. "I was on a honeypot mission a few years back; she enjoyed knifeplay. I did a lot of that then."

"Have you ever done it with me?" Q's voice wavered a little. "If I have ever done anything to cause you pain or..." he paused as Bond closed his eyes again.

"You are very elaborate and detailed in your definition of consent," Bond stated a second later, making the coder stay silent. It seemed as if Bond was about to give one of his rare explanations. The agent opened his eyes again, very deliberately, and focused on Q. "I would compromise my mission by giving you any grounds to assume my ability to offer consent is compromised in any way. Besides, I survive by reading people. You've never reacted badly, in any way, to me stating boundaries. In fact, you like it. You always relax when I set limits."

"I like to know that they're there," Q admitted. "That you'll stop me if I overstep. That you enjoy things as much as I do, I suppose..."

"You've never hurt me," Bond confirmed, resting his head against Q's thigh. "I know you desire honesty, and that you're afraid to be cruel. I wouldn't do that to you. You can put your mind at rest."

"I can force people to do things without even realising it," Q admitted, biting his lip. "There's so much power in what I do. And I have much of it over you, too... I regret my actions when we first met. I was naive to think that you'd be able to... whatever I was thinking. You're under even more pressure than most others would be. Your boss even ordered you here."

"I am always either under pressure or bored out of my mind," Bond responded. "I can judge people; wants, motivations. You picked me because I wouldn't be scared of you, and I'm not. There's nothing you need to regret."

"There could have been," Q was not arguing so much as agreeing. Bond trusted him, and because of that, and because he could, things had worked out alright after all. "You've always been easy to be around... and very, very attractive." He felt more than heard the chuckle coming from Bond. "You didn't answer my question though... is it any good? For you?"

Bond smirked into Q's hip, admitting softly. "It has been amazing more than once... and it is always alright." Q was clever enough to take the sentence for what it was; assurance that Bond was fine, and a sincere compliment. He was also far too clever to think "more than once" meant "often".

Q chuckled, shaking his head. "Very diplomatic," he complimented, getting a grin in responce, but no verbal reply. It seemed Bond had already abandoned his short stab at using words in any major way.

Q had turned his attention back to programming when Bond spoke again. "I trust you, which is rare," the man stated softly, head still resting against Q's thigh, "but I can see how M's orders would be a problem otherwise. You're not used to, but sometimes you need to go for what your intuition says. That is fine."

Playfully, Q moved a hand to Bond's forehead, smiling as the older man frowned in confusion. "Are you unwell? You keep speaking!" Q's mouth was saying, but his eyes merely said "thank you."

"You didn't answer my question though," Q realised a few minutes later, after successfully having wrecked havoc onto the digital life of the last person around the table in M's office; the last of the people willing to sacrifice Bond without even thinking about it first.

James looked up from the tablet he was currently using to read a novel (with Q's permission to borrow the technology, of course), his eyes asking what question that might have been. Q found it strangely reassuring that the man had seemingly run out of words again. "If you've ever 'lain back back and thought of England' when we've had sex." Q reminded him. Bond chuckled.

"No," James replies with a small chuckle, looking back down on his tablet for a moment of consideration before meeting Q's eyes again. "I actually haven't."

"And lying in bed with me?" Q questioned softly. "What are you thinking of?" The agent merely shrugged in responce, and Q frowned. "I make you lie around a lot since you got injured. You have to think of _something_!"

"Sometimes, often I don't. Or I try to relax as much as possible; you seem to enjoy that and it goes against all my training, so it is quite a nice challenge. Helps with the boredom." Q studied the agent. James was indeed lying sprawled over the mattress in a way he never had during their first few weeks together. As to his analysis, the coder realised that his lover was, rather unsurprisingly, right. He did enjoy touching James after a good workeout, swim or on the edge of sleep. A deadly weapon in rest.

"I really am rather odd, huh?" Q stated goodnaturedly, running a hand through James' short hair. He got another slight shrug as a reply, as the older man returned to his book, unconcerned as ever. Amused by his lover's unruffled nature, Q went back to his coding, intent on revolutionering the world by an entirely new computer game.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Canon-complatible violence. AU elements. (New ones, I mean)

* * *

Q rose in the middle of the night, walking over to the door out to the pool area. James was sleeping; it was altogether a much more solid affair ever since he got so badly injured, and it was no longer a rare thing for Q to wake and not be alone.

He had just stepped onto the terrace, when there was suddenly a hand over his mouth and something cold which stung by his throat. How whomever it was doing it _could_ , and at the same time hold him fast, was a mystery to him, but he was not given much time to wonder at that skill before a slightly accented voice hissed in his ear. "Where is James? What did you do to him?"

As Q fought against the form which held him, or rather spectacularly failed in this endeavour, he realised the person was actually shorter than him, and though the sheer strenght and skill behind the grip reminded him of James, this person was shaped nothing like him. Before he could do anything about it, object in some way to ask him questions while covering his mouth, there was another voice. "Let him go, Alec. It was just illusion. M knows."

Q found himself being let go so unceremoniously that he had to catch himself against the wall. "I thought it was uncharacteristic of her to abandon you so easily. Did our brothers in arms know?"

"I think some of them guessed, and most are out on assignment, much like you. Monneypenny?" Alec merely shrugged in responce, but it was barely even a question anyway. She was by far the most likely candidate to having told Alec about the call. As Q looked up to watch the two agents, it was hard to say which was most obvious. Their similarities, or their dissimilarities.

James was blond and impossibly blue-eyed, body carried with power but his injuries were also obvious in the careful shifting of his movements. The agent he had referred to as Alec, and thus could only be agent 006; Alec Trevelyan, was his complete opposite. Where James was tall, Alec was short, a lean and (probably deceptibly) soft figure aganst hard muscle. Alec's hair was a deep black, and much longer than James', and as she turned her dark blue eyes on Q, her movements held all the deadly grace of a cat out on a hunt.

He barely dared to introduce himself, but he did so anyway, shakily stating his name without offering a hand. Alec merely smiled. "Hello, Q. I have heard a lot about you. Good and bad. Most of it bad. I like you already."

"Why must you always appear with a bang?" James walked back into his bedroom through the navy curtains, crawling right back into bed without looking back. The unusually graceless motions were a good proof of how badly he had really been hurt, and it was clear that Alec could have noticed it from a mile away.

"You sound like M. Age finally getting to you, old man? Heading for the viagra generaton next, grandpa?" Alec was, according to her file, only six years younger than James, but Q guessed that in their business, it was enough of a span to count. Many double O's didn't even _last_ six years. He sat down at the edge of the bed, before changing his mind and rising, mumbling something unintelligeble and fleeing back to his own bedroom. He wanted to known how the Double O had gotten through his security: actually dealing with her could wait until morning. Besides, she was far too eerie to be around; even when she wasn't trying to kill him. And he had no faith that that bit wouldn't pass.

James rolled his eyes as Q left the room, and turned on his side. "Thanks," it was really all he needed to say.

"Any time, brother," Alec replied evenly, her voice just a lethal murmur in the dark, "any time at all."


	36. Chapter 36

May I just say, for the record, that Alec is a little shit and I hate her.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.  
Warnings: Quite a lot of very adult talk of the naughty variety.

Reminder: Double O Nine is played by Tom Hiddleston.

* * *

It was barely nine o'clock, hours before his usual rising time, when Q carefully knocked on Bond's bedroom door and stepped inside. James was sleeping peacefully, looking sleepy and adorable and spoonable and Q just wanted to snuggle up at his side with a sigh and waste a few hours drifting. Alec Trewelyan, however, was looking at him with those deadly sharp eyes of hers, and he could not.

The night before, her entire demeanour had been wrought in serious suspicion, her behaviour centered around the need to protect James. Even now, even Q, who was more about computers than people, could see how possessively she watched over her injured brother-in-arms.

Like James when he first arrived at the island, however, Alec's suspicion had faded slightly overnight into a less obviously lethal gaze. "Good morning, Q," she greeted him in a soft, almost seductive whisper, watching James for any reaction. There was none. Presumably between his exhausted, healing body and his deep familiarity with them both, James was not disturbed.

"Good morning," Q greeted cautiously in return, stepping into the room like one enters a lion's den. He had come to trust James to not find him a threat and so not attack during any circumstances, but though he knew Alec now knew he hadn't harmed her best friend and she so had no reason to lash out at him, he did not know her, and he was after all entering a room which housed not one but two extremely deadly assassins.

Still cautiously, but daring to as Trevelyan's eyes had that lazy look James' eyes took when he watched without really caring about what he saw, just studying out of habit when there no longer was any need to observe, Q went and sat down on the edge of the bed. He was careful not to touch, not sure how protective Trewelyan was at the moment, nor how much James had told her about him.

"You can touch him you know," Alec's previously so blank face held some measurement of amusement. "He is the only one who gets to chose who gets to touch his body, not me, and he chose you. Clearly," she added somewhat wryly, "I came here to help him; not to chose for him. So don't mind me."

"So you're not... eh," Q was not entirely sure himself what he was asking. Alec's smile slowly turned almost predatory, but somehow stayed friendly, not threatening.

"Jealous? His lover? No. As long as James is safe, as long as he is here freely, then I have no objections. he's a big boy, he can look after himself. I must say," she added after a moment, looking over at James with deep affection colouring her gaze, "thank you. He never relaxes like this. Others," she shrugged off the wide mention like they were all stupid in her eyes, "speak of how he is a restless person, but that's _not_ it. He needs to be _useful_ , he _needs_ to serve his country, and without it, he suffers. Whatever it is, this deal between you both, it lets him move, while he rests. He can sleep easily, because he does good anyway." Finally, she looked up from her sleeping friend's face and met Q's astonished eyes. "It grieves me to see him struggling when injured, and in our line of work, we get injured. He heals well here. I cannot hold a hollow grudge to you, knowing that."

Smiling slightly, Q nodded slowly as he considered her words. Eventually, he settled on a response. Alec did not seem to be in a hurry to get one, not quite waiting as much as just resting there. "Thank you. I do try to be good to him. It means a lot to hear you approve of our... deal. You obviously... care a lot about him."

"I love him," Alec corrected, or if confirmed would have been a better word, Q thought. "But as my best friend, his sister-in-arms. I'd die for him; without hesitating, he would for me too, but I am not your competition, nor you mine."

"So you've never...?" Q asked before he could stop himself. Alec snored in reply, voice still low and soft not to wake James.

"Oh heck no, not outside of work. It has become necessary for the good of a mission at times, and neither of us minds, but I am not what James looks for in a girl; or boy, for that matter," she added as an afterthought. Picking up on Q's puzzlement even though she seemingly wasn't watching him, she explained. "As I am sure you've figured out by now, James likes to play the indulgent lover. Mostly, he _is_ , too." She allowed. "He likes to let his partner lead, secure in the knowledge that no matter how much he allows them to take charge, he is still ultimately in control. With me, he has no physical advantage. It is not about trust, he knows I'd never hurt him, but he likes to be in control without needing to _take control_ of anything, and that takes somebody..."

"More fragile?" Q suggested, drawing a soft laugh from the resting double O.

"Less lethal" the agent settled. "It is fair, he is not my cup of tea either." At Q's obvious surprise, she snorted out a laugh. "Tell me, is he noisy in bed with you?"

Q grimased slightly. "Sometimes, usually on those days when he is clearly bored and call me sweetheart and decides to pull the full seduction act out, otherwise... no. He _has_ said he isn't very loud naturally, so..."

"He isn't." Alec confirmed, turning slightly, focusing more intently on Q. "I think it comes with the game after long enough: we are hard in the face of death and cold in our seductions. Sounds are for an audience, so if he feels no need to fake them for you, he makes none." She rolled her eyes. "He gives those long, deep breaths if he likes something, and these dark sighs if he doesn't. They're almost entirely identical and otherwise he is silent. Not what I go for."

Q snickered. "I recognise that. Doesn't need to mean anything though, right? Are they all like that?" Slightly distressed at his own implication, he added quickly. "Not that I mean you would have slept with them all, or anything, I just...!"

Luckily, Alec didn't seem to take offense. "Oh, it does. He trust you enough not to feel the need to make them for your sake. Impressive, really. And, well... the older ones, maybe we are. Double O One is a hopeless smarmer, I've never had any first hand knowledge but the secretaries aren't _too_ impressed with him. Two," she rolled her eyes again, "is unserious, oldfashion and I'd shoot him before I'd sleep with that dinousaur. Three and Four are nice enough blokes, competent agents, too, the notches on their bedposts tell me they're alright intimately, too. Five thinks he's an action hero and I'd never sleep with him either. Eight is absolutely the best, disregarding James' reputation: those who've made far more...deep," she winked at Q, "studies than I on the subject all agree. Nine is almost my favourite, though. Those two are the only two I've had... well, _just_ for pleasure."

"He's _that_ good?" Q couldn't help but wonder at what that'd be like, considering what he knew about James. He was interrupted before his thoughts strayed from the strictly suitable by Alec's laughter.

"Oh _hell no_. He's _rubbish_ , but he _looks_ so pretty. Especially like that. He and James are basically each other's cure, sexually. Utter opposities. A threesome would be awesome. Actually, throw in eight too and that'd be one _epic night_!"

"If you are planning an orgy, don't invite two or I won't come," James muttered sleepily, making Alec laugh again. "Nope, nor One or Five. Your boytoy/ruler can come though."

"Don't be silly," James still hadn't opened his eyes. "We'd break him. Possibly Nine, too. And Five, but that'd be you, on purpose." He clearly had no illusions about Alec's opinion of certain of their colleagues.

Alec turned to James now. "You've never had him, right?" Q assumed she meant Double O Nine.

"A gentleman never tells," James turned, buried his head against Q's tigh, and went back to sleep. Settling in with a soft laughter, Q let the silence be as he processed the strange conversation, wondering if all Double O agents were so... unusual, or if it was just Alec (and possibly James).

* * *

Great, now I am helpless in my OWN story as well! I GIVE UP!


	37. Chapter 37

Q entered his computer lab, taking the greatest care in making sure the door was accurately shut behind him and locked with full security. With not just one but two spies roaming his house at leisure, there really was no such thing as being too careful. At least there was no actual breach in his security; Alec had seemingly entered the island with a combination of secrets only Bond could have told her (and seemingly hadn't shared around more than to his best friend. Q considered this fair: if he had backups, and he definitely had, James could, too) and sheer violence. He'd quickly gotten the rest of it sorted last night.

Alec had gone to swim around the entirety of the island, about an hour ago, and after reading for a while resting against the dozing James, Q had awakened him to have lunch. Now James was taking what had to be his fourth nap of the day, and Q settled at his computer station to do some digging on the double O program.

He had a list of names up quickly enough, but it took him an hour to find the files related to the relusive memory he was looking for. He finally did, uncovering a video file he had stole from a supposedly non-network (which it was not) camera before the internal memory card was shot. Literally shot. Agent Trevelyan did not mess about.

A clusterfuck of absolutely abnormal proportions had seen five double O agents sent to different corners of the world, into separate sections of what appared to have been one organisation in the end.

Q's video file showed a convenient camera angel of the double O's eventual and inevitable reunion. He watched a firefight, more special agents joining mid-through, and finally how they rounded up all the enemy agents and goons in a effective manner not betraying their training. They had kill orders, Q knew that, but they weren't executing them. It seemed even hardened spies such as these had trouble with such a cold action, nevermind that everyone in the room was a cold-hearted killer, winners and losers alike.

The computer manipulator kept watching as 006 cleaned the scene, shooting other cameras and wiping a few fingerprints. 007 and 008; so similar in features and build that they had been sent to honeypot missions as twins, Q recalled, standing by the prisoners keeping guard but just looking on. Next to them, the fourth agent was... puking his guts out, by the look of it. Assuming that must be 009, Q rested his head in his hand and kept watching as the final agent arrived at the scene.

005, he guessed from Alec's warrior-like description, entered the room last, and though he looked unwilling also, his hands were steady as he took the first shot, and remained calm after he took the last. Moments later, Alec raised her own gun and took out the camera Q had spied through; the last one.

Pulling up the list again, Q was suddenly glad he did not have a teacup, at the moment, as he would have dropped it. The face staring back at him from the screen, naming 005, Pierce Smithsonian, was that of the man who had been puking on the floor, under the unsympathetic stares of his colleagues. Scrolling down, past Alec Trevelyan, James Bond and Daniel Brock, the steady-handed backup looked back at him in all his charming, almost innocent-looking glory: Tom Scott, 009. What the hell? Q blinked quickly several times. Was it him or Alec who had lost their mind?

* * *

I might be overcompensating a bit for 009 constantly being portrayed as such a wuss, but I thought we needed a badass 009 for once! (He is totally a bit on the soft side in Double00Q, never fear)


	38. Chapter 38

Look who is back! I do not entirely remember what this story is about, but I shall give it a go!

Greetings from 009

* * *

Q spent the hours until dinner time in isolation in his computer lab, his head reeling with the realisation that he had completely mistaken the balance between the double O agents. Alec Trevelyan had spoken about her feelow agents in a very decided way, but what Q himself saw did not seem to add up with it in any way.

By the time it was the dinner hour, Q went out on the deck, where he for the first time was joined by not one, but two lethal spy assasins for supper.

"Look who is almost awake!" Alec chuckled, looking over at her brother in arms. It was all the more obvious next to her, and her smooth, catlike appearance, just how tired and still healing her colleague was.

They started on eating lamb barbeque before Q brought it up. "I saw... some old work of yours, today," he started, only to have Alec roll her eyes.

"You meant you hacked something and spied. We do know you do that. " She reminded him. She didn't seem upset at all, so he merely agreed.

"Right. But, you spoke of Agent 005 as being rather, well, hard, and agent 009 as being rather more... well..."

"I did. Several of the other agents are rather oldfashion, but also strangely silly at times. Roger, 002, that is, can never be serious and Five thinks he is such a stud, but Nine is much more..."

"He is sweet and naive in a way the rest of us are not," James fliked in, "maybe because he never got any honey pot assignments. He isn't either sweet nor naive in any other way, however."

Alec nodded in agreement. "You could say that. Tom is much more of a soldier and far less of a spy, that way. He's got a steady hand, but only for guns." Slowly, Q nodded. He supposed that that explained it, but he still felt like he had gotten to understand the double O's even less than when he started this line of inquiry. He had a bad feeling that that was perhaps on purpose. Spies and all that.

* * *

Not to mistake 009 with 009 in Double00Q, where he is exactly the opposite to this one. I have to be allowed to have some fun with characterisation, right? Also, Alec favours smarmy 009 and James prefers deadly killer, so...


End file.
